


Dust and Mustard

by EnemiesWithBenefits



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell, Amnesia, Bara Sans, Dark, F/F, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M, NSFW, No Frisk here, Original Character Death(s), Other, POV Sans, Reader Insert, Reader Is Not Frisk, Resets, Smut, Split smut chapters, Suicide mention, Time Shenanigans, Underfell, adult reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 12:11:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 25,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6284029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnemiesWithBenefits/pseuds/EnemiesWithBenefits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans hates you -<br/>But he thinks he loves you too.<br/>Or, an Underfell fic told from an angsty skeleton's perspective as he falls helplessly into denial.<br/>Title's been changed because I've changed a lot about this stories' ending.<br/>Sequel coming soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Liar

There's a human curled at his feet, struggling to stay alive.

Sans isn’t quite sure what to do with them - he could always finish them off and absorb their soul, but he's gone this far without resorting to that and besides, they had done nothing but whimper softly against the cold snow. Killing them might invoke another reset anyways and who was he to chance that?

Picking the human up, he watches in interest as they immediately snuggle into what warmth his embrace has to offer, soft little noises leaving their lips in tandem with white clouds of air. The thing that surprises him most is how they’re so _tiny_ and _cold._ This must've been the human everyone was been so hung up on, the one that’d been living in Snowdin’s forest for the past month. Sans can’t help but admire the fact that they’ve survived this long on their own.

Unfortunately, the skeleton monster has a bit of a predicament on his hands - either he takes them to his home and stashes them in his lab, or he exposes them to papyrus, both with a large risk of the human being killed and himself being dusted. That or he takes them back to where he knew they were hiding out; it wasn't that far of a walk from here.

Glancing back down at the shivering mass in his arms, the stout skeleton sighs before trudging on. No one should bother him, except Papyrus, but hopefully, the taller skeleton wouldn’t be home. He should have plenty of time to decide what he should do until then. And if he could convince Papyrus, then they would be safe.

But why was he even sticking his neck out for the little shrimp? Why did he even _care?_ Part of him reels away and wants to drop the human in the snow right there and then. Visibly, he sneers and pauses, red iris illuminating the dark space around their figures.

He keeps walking.

The infuriating part is he doesn’t know _why_ he cares. He just can’t bring himself to care _enough_ about turning them in the first time he'd stumbled across them, and now here he is, saving their life. Maybe he was just tired of knowing that if they died, there'd be a reset. He’s so damn tired of resetting. Besides, this human doesn’t seem so bad.

The walk through Snowdin is the anxiety inducing, but thankfully the blizzard hissing around him hides the bundle in his arms. He snarls at any monster that dares to journey close, and most of them back off and leave him alone. A few sneer back before turning back to their own business, but not without keeping a careful eye on him. He knows most of them only leave him alone because his brother is the head of the royal guard, but he knows that he's enough of a force to be reckoned with on his own. Even if no one knows it.

Soon enough he notices the human’s gone extremely still by the time he arrives home, and he doesn't waste any time in setting them up on the ginormous couch and layering blanket upon blanket on their resting form. At first, they seem to miss his warmth with a small mewl, but by the time they're covered on the couch they look happy, some color returning to their features.

“you're nothing but trouble, brat.” Work done, he sighs, leaving the house. Might as well try to explain to Papyrus before he comes home. He couldn't have his younger brother inducing a reset, after all.

  


 

  
Sans is _extremely_ confused.

Papyrus is leaning over their form, one bony hand on their forehead and another holding out a steaming cup of golden flower tea. They make a sudden noise as the jolt, the new noise causing both brothers to pause in slight worry. The skeletons aren't quite sure what that sound is, but relax as the human recovers and sits up slightly, untangling their hands from the sheets as they reach for the warm mug.

“Thank you.” Surprised, Papyrus tilts his head, narrowing his eyes in consideration. The human only downs some of the warm drink, sighing happily.

“Understand this, human! The great Papyrus does not do this out of kindness. It is out of pity and my brother's insistence that you are not dead right now. It would be shameful and weak of me to not wait until you are well before I take your soul.”

Papyrus isn't bullshitting, Sans knows, but he watches as they nod and smile kindly anyways. “Still, thank you.”

Sans wants to haul them up by their throat and ask them just who the fuck they think they are. They've caused a light blush to spread across Papyrus’ cheeks, moments after he's threatened their life. Papyrus had vowed to judge them to see if they were a kind human, and it seems that his judgement has already passed.

“You do not seem to be so bad, for a human. What is your name?” Papyrus’ voice is softer now as he watches them. He seems slightly less guarded, and Sans knows just as Papyrus knows that the human doesn't mean any harm. Monsters are good at sensing the intentions of souls, and right now theirs is just humming happily.

“y/n.” They offer meekly, over the rim of their cup. Thankfully they can't see Sans from where they're looking at Papyrus because Sans is standing behind the couch. He's not sure he can look at them right now anyways. Not like this, when he feels too conflicted to make sense of them. They should be dead, a bloody pulp in the snow or a huddled still mass in the blizzard. Not cozying up to the head of the royal guard in his home, after Sans – _Sans, mind you! -_ saved their life.

Maybe he's a little jealous he's not the center of attention of such a warm soul at the moment. Immediately shaking the thought away, Sans decides to break the ice.

“c’mon boss. the brat can rest while we decide what to do with ‘em.” Sans notices he sounds as vindictive as he feels and wonders if that's the right way to treat this strange human. They're much kinder and thoughtful than any human he's met before, and part of him knows they're going to be swallowed whole by the underground.

Papyrus nods, watching as they set the cup down with a soft exhale. Their eyes are closing and their breathing is becoming more even - Sans is surprised they stayed awake for even this long. Then again, Papyrus is quite the commanding presence.

Sans and Papyrus leave the home for the snowy front porch, icy winds cutting deep into Sans’ bones. Papyrus looks absolutely fine in the frigid weather, but then again Sans had always had more sensitive bones. The two of them just stand there for a long moment, and Sans knows that at any moment Papyrus could change his mind, turn around, and slaughter the human.  But first, he'd probably drag them kicking and screaming outside in the snow, where everyone would watch Papyrus execute them.

Or worse, make Sans do it.

It's not like Sans cares about _them._ He’s just tired of resetting and having to relive years upon years of timelines. It gets boring after too long, even if each human that came through was different from the last.

“Perhaps we should take the human in, brother.” Papyrus begins slowly, a hand on his jaw. Sans is surprised once again by how much of an impact they've made on him. “It would make it much easier to keep an eye on them, and while all together it would be much better to kill them and take their soul, perhaps there could be... _benefits_ to a pet human.”

Papyrus has a wry smile on his face, and while Sans enjoys his line of thought he's not sure he could stand the human enough to be watching out for them on a day to day basis. Enough to keep them alive, but that was it.

“i, uh, don’t think that’s a good idea pap. the sheds empty. give ‘em that.” Sans offers the idea with as much apathy as he can muster, eye-lights sliding over to watch his brother from the corners of his vision. Papyrus thinks this over, and as far as Sans can tell by the lack of a definitive ‘no’, Papyrus seems to agree. “they can have their room there, and still live with us. keep an eye on ‘em easier that way.”

“For such a lazy bones, that is not such a horrible idea, brother!” Papyrus ‘Nyeh’s softly, rubbing his jaw. Sans can definitely see it now, the metaphorical gears turning in his brother’s skull as he contemplates the plan. While Sans thinks it’s better than just letting the kid go – which he wouldn’t care much for either (remember? He doesn’t give a shit about the human.) – it’s also much better than Papyrus’ original ‘pet’ idea.

So long as they had a consistent idea of where the human was going to be, near Snowdin, they could keep an eye on them without having too much interaction with them. At least, that was the case for Sans. As stated before, the only reason he was putting up with them was because, for once, he wanted to make progress.

“Alright, I have thought it through, brother. Let us prepare the shed to be adequate enough for the human to live in.”

 

 

 

 

Sans thinks that maybe, just maybe, they’re not pretending.

All of their kindness and gratitude couldn’t all come from fear, right? Not something that seemed so _genuine._ Especially not with the way their soul thrummed happily when the brothers led them to the shed after they recovered a day later, through the cold, to a newly furnished space. It had only taken a few hours to clean the room, set up some magic to keep the place warm, and steal a mattress from the inn.

Hey, they wouldn’t mind too much, right? For a good cause, and all that bullshit.

The thing was, when Sans took an extra hard look at their soul, Sans wasn’t quite sure _what_ he saw. Normally the humans that fell down here were easy to read and see just how scared, angry, bigoted, or deserving of their fate they were. Sans could read their thoughts and emotions like he was looking through a deck of cards, one human to the next, with slight variations here and there.

y/n was different.

While their soul was still easy to gauge the intentions of, it wasn’t quite so easy to see. _Feel,_ yes. But he couldn’t tell what color, size, Attack, Defense, HP, or anything else. It was a little bit disconcerting, but it still added up to more reasons Sans was becoming ever more suspicious of them. Or reasons why he just couldn’t _stand_ them. Their bullshit smile and manners. Genuine, yes, but he _hated_ it. He refuses to think about _why_ he hates it mostly because he’s afraid he won’t like what he’ll find.

Whatever.

“Thank you.” The human smiles at the two of them, back to the far wall with a hand on one of the support beams. Papyrus had gotten rid of the bars that had previously made it a cage, once again showing just how much he likes this human. “Really, this is too much.” _Damn right,_ Sans thinks, as their eyes slide over to him, their smile fracturing for a moment before spreading wider.

Sans begins to sweat.

“Do not worry, human! It was no problem for me and my brother to set this up.” Papyrus declares, hands on his hips. “However, we have some rules, and if you do not obey, we will not hesitate to take your soul!” Narrowing his eyes, Papyrus, despite these acts of mercy ( _kindness,_ hissed a part of Sans’ thoughts), still looks menacing enough to make real threats. Sans knows by the way their soul shivers that the human knows Papyrus’ words have real weight to them. “You must be either here or in the house by nightfall; one of us must know where you are at all times; be home for breakfast and supper or feed yourself, and do _not_ leave Snowdin without one of us.”

“and if you start shit,” Sans cuts in. “end it yourself. take care of it on your own, kid.”

_Liar._

As if Sans wants another reset so soon. Doesn’t mean he couldn’t wait until it was absolutely necessary to save their ass, right?

Yeah, Right.

Sans’ soul squeezes tightly in his ribcage.

Their soul shiveres slightly, seeming to hum in either response to his threat or his own soul’s movement. For a ew moments they looked crestfallen, before it disappears back into a serious look of acceptance as they nod. They have the decency to look nervous, at least, which they should be. It was extremely probable that as soon as it caught wind there was a human staying in Snowdin that monsters would come from all over for the chance to kill them.

And about earlier, when Sans had carried them through town? Hopefully, the blizzard had been strong enough to hide them from eyesight. Sans doesn’t need vultures, and he and Pap don’t need to be constantly saving their ass, no matter how much they said they wouldn’t. Papyrus seema far too attached by now to let go anyways. The taller skeleton had always been a bit of a softie when it came down to it.

“Come, human.” Papyrus finally speaks disrupting their silent examination of the Spartan accommodations. “Let us go back into the house, so I can cook us something to eat. You must be famished.”


	2. Stupid

The next day is quiet and spent with y/n staying indoors, with them only making the trip to the shed – their ‘room’ - when it was night. They were anxious about staying separate from the brothers, if only because they were afraid of something coming for them in their sleep. Sans had inwardly been surprised to finally see them actually _scared_ for once, holding the key in his hand and assuring (teasing, really) that the building was warded with magic to withstand until one of the brother’s arrived.

That and he’d hear them screaming if anything happened.

Papyrus spent the day scrounging around and had come back with some clothes for the human, washing all of them beforehand. They’re all old, and either Sans’, Undyne’s, or even Papyrus’ from long, long ago. The human doesn’t mind anyhow, thanking the head of the royal guard profusely and pulling on a blue hoodie as soon as it’s out of the dryer. It contrasts fittingly against Sans’ black and red ensemble, but Sans would never admit that.

They leave y/n alone for nearly the whole day to watch TV, while both of the skeleton brothers do their respective things. For Sans, it’s just another day as usual, sleeping at his sentry stations and then heading to Grillbys whenever he can for some mustard and fries. However, his day is perpetually off when he can’t steer his thoughts clear of y/n. While no one has approached him about a human, he still thinks a reset is inevitable once they let them leave the house tomorrow. They’ve got a lot to prove in order to be safe in Snowdin, and Sans is already ready to give up 

He's not looking forward to tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

“SANS! GET YOUR LAZY ASS OUT OF BED!”

For a few moments, Sans can’t breathe. It’s the same line he wakes up to on every reset, and when he looks around his room with his red iris to illuminate the space, there’s nothing to tell him he hasn’t gone back. Did y/n die? Did _he_ die? In his fucking sleep? No way. It must’ve been the human. But how?

Eventually he remembers to breathe, propped up on his elbows and back, refusing to get up and face the day. He knows from experience he has three minutes before Papyrus has enough of it and gets him up himself, so Sans decides to take those three minutes to his advantage.

That is, however, until there’s a few timid knocks on his door.

Surprised and slightly hopeful (why the _fuck_ is he hopeful? So what. A human died. Business as usual.) he opens his eyes and uses one arm to lazily swing the door open with his magic. The human stands there, rightfully embarrassed, a bottle of mustard in hand. Sans is relieved, surprised, and pissed off.

“wha’d’ya want, brat?” He tries to put as much venom into his voice as possible, and finds out it’s not hard. They flinch, holding out the yellow bottle like a peace offering. He hates the way his soul twinges in response to the gesture.

“Papyrus wanted me to try and wake you up.” They murmur, looking anywhere but at Sans. Their eyes trail across his sock collection, treadmill, and trash tornado. Yeah, he knows his room’s a mess. Does he care? (Do you even need to ask?) “I agreed, because I thought the best way to inoculate myself to the underground might be trying to wake up the grouchiest monster there is.”

Sans registers the joke and his usual smile twists into a cruel grin. “you think you’re fuckin’ funny, do you, _sweetheart?_ ” It’s not hard to notice how they visibly flinch at the term. “you’d be a lot better off dead than tryin’ shit with me.” Sans snarls, sitting up now, and he notices the way their eyes also skim across his bare upper anatomy, eyes widening imperceptivity before looking away in shame. He only holds his arms out in a mocking gesture. “see somethin’ you like, doll?”

“Sorry.” They back away, out of the doorway, placing the mustard bottle on the ground. “Here. I’ll just… see you.”

They scamper out of eyesight and not much later he can hear them go down the stairs, leaving him feeling unsatisfied and with a strange empty feeling in his soul. Normally Sans could have a little fun here and there with tormenting the humans that fell each reset. The only reason he _could_ still enjoy it was because of how different each human was. But he didn’t feel happy or proud or sadistically gleeful when he lashed out at _this_ human. He felt… _weird_.

Knowing he shouldn’t dawdle for much longer, he got out of bed and changed out of the dirty shorts he was currently wearing for his usual red shirt and black shorts, knowing his jacket was downstairs along with his tennis shoes. Picking up the bottle of mustard in his doorway, he looked over the second-story railing to an empty living room, hearing his brother’s voice from the kitchen.

Wasting magic and sparing time, Sans falls out of reality and back in a moment later at the bottom of the stairs. It probably takes a lot less effort to actually _go down_ the stairs, but he doesn’t really care. Besides, he’s got a lot of magic to waste, having no reason to really use it apart from menial tasks here and there.

“…studied what, human?” Sans can hear his brother clearly now, as he walks across the living room to the kitchen, starting to nurse on his mustard. When he reaches the archway to the kitchen y/n is sitting at the table with their back to Sans while Papyrus serves breakfast, the two of them making light conversation.

“I hadn’t decided yet. Just picked and chose some classes I thought were cool.” Sans can hear the warmth in their voice from here, and once again he’s struck by the strangeness of the situation. There’s a human who seems suspiciously too kind for their own good sitting in his kitchen, accepting eggs and bacon from his brother, who also happens to be a human hunting fanatic and the head of the royal guard.

It's all a little too chipper for Sans.

“That sounds very intriguing, human!” Papyrus replies politely, as Sans decides to finally make his appearance known. His walk on the kitchen floor is accompanied by the gentle clicking of bone on tile as he pulls out the closest seat to y/n, sitting down next to them with an innocent smile. “Sans! I am glad to see you finally decided to join us.”

“mhm. what’s for breakfast, pap?” Sans asks, keeping his eyes fully on y/n, even though he can clearly see the food Papyrus has sprawled across the table; “eggs” and “bacon”, along with some toast and jelly. Sans is once again grateful his brother’s such a good cook, and that he doesn’t have to resort to Grillby’s all the time. The human shrinks under his gaze, their soul dimming for a few moments before it brightens. They smile at Sans in a shy gesture, ignoring the sudden sharpness of his grin as they dig into their food.

“You are not blind Sans. I hope you can serve yourself.” Papyrus scoffs, serving himself his own food. Sans grumbles and looks away from y/n, and turns to his own plate. Breakfast passes in relative silence par the polite conversation between the human and Papyrus, along with a soul-felt thank you for both of the brothers for Breakfast.

“There is nothing to thank the Mighty Papyrus for, human.”

“whatever, kid.”

When breakfast ends, Sans is the first to finish and he leaves the kitchen with his hands in his pockets, along with one last glare in y/n’s direction. They don’t seem to mind however, only smiling in return, and he can see some determination in it by now. Determination for what, he isn’t sure, but he doesn’t think he should care either. They’re just another human that’s going to die sooner or later, and it’s best not to get invested.

Not again.

He pilots himself to the couch and fiddles with the remote until he finds what he’s looking for – MTT TV – and closes his eyes for a nap. It’s ruined, however, when not too long passes and there’s a set of silent footsteps that announces y/n’s arrival, paired with the way the other end of the couch sinks under their weight.

Sans opens his right eye-socket in order to glare at them half-heartedly, only for it to dissolve when he realizes their attention is caught by the TV instead. Papyrus is in the kitchen cleaning up breakfast by the sound of it, so that unfortunately leaves him alone with them for the time being. Oh well. At least they were distracted.

He closes his eyes again.

“Sans!”

The shorter skeleton opens both eyes this time, inwardly huffing in resignation. Of fucking course. Papyrus stands in front of the TV, as if he hopes this bothers Sans enough to catch his attention. It doesn’t, but Sans doesn’t make it a habit to ignore his brother anyways. It’d be in bad health to do so.

“yeah boss?”

“Take the human with you today, Sans!” Papyrus orders, and Sans visibly sneers. He thought _Papyrus_ would take the human out today. He doesn’t want anything to do with the damned thing. Papyrus stiffens and gives Sans a threatening glare Sans _knows_ isn’t an empty threat. “Do you need to be told twice, brother?”

“fine. whatever.” He was going to leave soon anyways. Standing, Sans walks over to the table by the door and picks up his jacket, putting it on with relative ease. Next he slips on his tennis shoes, the worn sneakers fitting comfortably. From the corner of his eyes he can tell y/n is standing a bit to the side now, as his brother watches him with a sneer. Sans shrugs his shoulders and masks the gesture with adjusting his jacket, opening the door to the icy forest of Snowdin. Cold air hits him like a wall, as he trudges onward.

They follow without a word.

 

 

 

 

The walk through Snowdin isn’t half bad, actually.

It’s early morning, so not too many monsters are out and about, but those who are don’t really seem to either care or want to risk approaching Sans. Maybe it’s because of his brother’s stature in their shitty society, or maybe it’s because Sans himself is giving off a menacing vibe that just _dares_ for anyone to try and approach. The human doesn’t seem to care, following him closely from the sound of their feet crunching in the snow.

Sans wonders if they’re looking around like an idiot, as usual, or if they’re following with that semi-serious look they gave him two days ago in the shed. Suddenly he sees them in his head, smiling in a stupor as they follow his sullen form, purposely crunching their feet in the snow and waving to every monster they pass by like they’re taking a stroll through a friendly neighborhood.

It makes his blood boil, but he stomps it down. They’re not _that_ stupid.

When they leave town, Sans leads them further into Snowdin’s forest along the path, passing by Papyrus’ traps. Sans remembers for a few moments how they survived, for a month, in Snowdin’s woods alone, and suddenly has a bit of newfound respect worming its way into his soul. Not only was everyone out to kill them and take their soul, the woods around Snowdin were very bare and full of traps meant to kill, rather than capture.

And the only thing that had finally done them in was the cold.

When they arrive at Sans’ sentry station, the skeleton hops behind the counter and takes a seat at his usual spot, bending over to pick up a half frozen bottle of mustard from the ground. Literally not giving a shit about whatever the human was doing, he starts to down the slushy like condiment, closing his eyes and laying his head against the back wall, kicking his feet up, deciding that maybe this would be a good time to take a nap.

The human could take care of itself.


	3. Splinter

It’s not much later when he wakes up, choking on the thickness of magic in the air. It takes him a few seconds to get reoriented, sitting up and looking out from his sentry station, before he notices something. Well, a few somethings.

One – y/n was missing.

Two – Someone was yelling. Scratch that, there were multiple people yelling.

Three – part of him was actually _worried._

What the _fuck_.

Left eye flaring crimson, the short skeleton begins to hop between the void and reality, going a few feet at a time in the direction he was certain the tense magic was coming from. He’s moving quickly – part of him registers he’s running out of stamina fast, but he doesn’t care. God, part of him hopes it was just some random fight between some monsters – a common enough occurrence as it was – and that it _was not_ y/n’s voice he was hearing.

A small rational part of his soul flares angrily at how stupid he was acting. He was expending himself over a _human._

_it’s just another spineless meatbag. another death. one more reset._

No.

This one _smiles._ This one actually gives a fuck. They laugh. They make Sans feel something besides muted glee at the prospect of tearing them apart. Sure, it’s usually rage and anger at the fact that they aren’t like all the other humans – but that’s because they make him feel _hope._

It’s confusing, terrifying, rage inducing – but hell if it isn’t addictive.

And all _his_.

As Sans nears, he finds it’s not hard to hear what’s going on. How the human even snuck this far into Snowdin’s forest, he’s not sure. The shrill wind picks up the sounds of the confrontation, cutting into his thick yet hollow bones and amplifying the sound. He can hear every word.

“how far do you think it goes, guys?” There’s some laughter. Multiple monsters.

“Let me go!” y/n’s fighting back – he can hear them as they struggle, but the monsters just keep laughing. Sans can feel their excitement in the thickness of the air, their magic bursting to be used. Sans’ magic is doing the same.

“Tsk, now don’t struggle. We only want to play with you!” The voices are familiar now. The Snowdin canine unit.

There’s an ugly sounding _crack_ as y/n screams, followed by howling laughter.

Sans is ready to dust them when he stops teleporting at the edge of a clearing, wasting precious moments to survey the scene. y/n lays in the snow, mouth agape in a silent cry of pain as they clutch their twisted arm to their chest. Doggo is nearly standing on top of them, sneering with a wicked grin. The rest of the canine unit stands around, watching in morbid fascination and dark glee.

Sans’ magic feels like lava in his bones, coursing through him and igniting every sense he has. His left eye feels like it’s on fire, the pent up magic casting an unearthly red sheen to coat the skeleton. It’s when he finally takes a step forward that all of the monsters turn his way, looking confused – and then, terrified.

Sans feels powerful. He _is_ powerful.

And these monsters are only _just_ beginning to realize that.

Sans rolls his neck, his magic-filled joints popping in protest as he grins venomously at the dogs. It’s been a while since he had fun doing this. It’d all become meaningless, one human to the next, and now, he could have some real fun.

“didn’t know ya’ll were havin’ a party.” He starts, the dancing red flames of his iris licking his skull and turning him into something demented looking. “should’ve invited me. wouldn’t’ve let you get this _bonely._ ”

“Sans -” Interrupted, Dogamy slams to the ground with a sickening _crunch,_ their entire body sheened in red, soul blue.

Lesser dog and Greater dog jump out of their suits of armor, running. They don’t get far when Sans surrounds the clearing in bones. They look ready to piss themselves.

_good._

This human was _his._ Nobody had the right to touch them. To fuck with them – hell, to even _talk_ to them. He may hate y/n with every fiber of his being, but that didn’t mean he was going to let them get hurt. He just _couldn’t._

“ _S-sans_.” The short skeleton’s eyes are peeled from the monsters to look at y/n, their trembling form suddenly much smaller amongst such big monsters. He’s reminded of a few days ago, when he plucked them from the snow and took them home, their form curled and snuggling into his chest. They’d been so helpless – defenseless, really – and it drove the skeleton mad. Right now, y/n sounds like they’re pleading. Sans doesn’t quite know what for, and he dismisses it.

He turns his eyes back to the dogs, turning all of their white, upside down souls blue, their bodies encased in his red magic. They’re whimpering – begging – and it only fuels him.

He’s so _angry_.

At y/n.

At the resets.

At Papyrus.

At _himself_.

He’s silent in his rage, meticulously thinking over exactly how he’s going to dust them one at a time, agonizingly slow. His anger is anything if patient. It shows in the way his red iris flickers over each of them, grin growing more and more vicious until it settles on y/n.

_Oh._

Their soul is blue, their body hazed in red.

Sans bears his teeth, cursing everything he knows as he lets y/n go, their form falling to the ground as they gasp for air. It’d been an accident – a mistake made in his anger.

He’s guilty – but that too, turns to primal rage.

 

 

 

 

There’s mutilated bodies lying around him as Sans struggles to get air into his lungs, the flare of his magic seeming to die on him in quickly repeating flickers. The canine unit is still alive – physically, it’s nothing some time and monster food won’t fix, but Sans knows he’s caused permanent damage to their souls. They’ll bear the scars of this encounter until the next reset, or until they die and turn to dust.

One of which was going to happen in the next few seconds.

Splintering a bone inside Doggo’s throat, Sans lifts his hand to finish it, turning all their souls blue. Just a flick of the wrist – or rather, the making of a fist – and they’d all be crushed to dust. Their souls were barely holding themselves together after his onslaught and it made Sans _proud_ to know that for once, someone knew he was more than just the head of the royal guard’s brother. He was Sans the skeleton, and he was a boss monster. No matter what the other monsters thought.

It’s then that he feels something tug at his jacket, insistently pulling on the fabric from slightly behind him. Baring his teeth with a snarl, he turns to the intrusion, only to find it’s the human. They’re looking up at him with big, pleading eyes, their broken arm tucked close to their body. They’re shivering from the cold, bruises and blood marring their body all over. Sans knows they’re afraid of him, but they don’t flinch at his angry glare.

“what?”

“Let them go.” They murmur, voice breaking. A part of him has a new found respect for them, with how they’ve stayed quiet and conscious this whole time. Had they been watching?

“you’re smart, sweetheart,” He hissed. “these fucks were going to kill you. they’ll try again. you think that only having a bit of a bad time is enough to teach them their lesson?”

Sans feels like they deserve much, much worse than what he’s dished out.

He watches y/n bite their lip and nod, and reminds himself again why he hates them.

_they’re human. all that comes from this is another reset. they’re going to die eventually._

He repeats this mantra as he begins to close his fist, tightening his hold on the souls.

“Please! Sans – please.” They whimper as they hold their broken arm, and it only serves to remind him who did this to them.

But…

“say it again.” His eye-sockets are dark, even the red of his iris gone.

“ _Sans please._ ”

He lets go.


	4. Nerve

They end up putting y/n to a week of bedrest on the couch, despite the fact their arm is done healing within two days. It doesn’t take much between the monster food and Papyrus’ healing magic, but the taller skeleton wants to be sure it heals properly, especially after such a serious break. y/n spends their time watching TV and sleeping, and complaining about how bored they are.

Sans avoids them like hellfire, never allowing himself to be in the room alone with y/n. He doesn’t know what to think or what to say when it comes to them. It doesn’t matter anyways. It _shouldn’t_ matter.

It’s funny that when he doesn’t know _what_ to think, all he _can_ think is them.

He hates them. But he _needs_ them. Their smile, genuine kindness, laughter – it’s something he’s gone years and resets without, and he can’t stand it. He can’t let them die, not when this is the best he’s felt in a long time. Sure, he’s confused as hell, but he feels _hope_ and even his brother is starting to respect him more now that the canine unit’s story has spread.

Everyone knows Sans isn’t just Papyrus’ brother. He’s a boss monster, and he’s proud of it. 

And hell if monsters aren’t scared of him. It makes Sans happy.

 

 

 

 

Sometimes, Sans idly wonders if it would’ve been best to just cut their arm off.

Sure, it wasn’t horribly mangled enough to warrant such treatment, but that way they would be seen as too pathetic to even bother trying with. A liability that didn’t warrant much look into from other monsters who meant y/n harm (as if they would try that now, with what happened to the canine unit). That and maybe it would be better than with how poor their motor skills were in that arm.

It wasn’t absolutely terrible, and they’d often joked about how at least it wasn’t their dominant hand, but sometimes Sans noticed their frustration. Their grip wasn’t as tight as it used to be, and they didn’t have as good coordination. They were insistent it had to do with “some nerves that got hurt, that’s all, they’ll be good as new. They just need to be rewired with some practice.”

Whatever nerves were.

Well, actually, Sans had borrowed – stolen – some books from Alphys in the meantime. All about humans and their anatomy, and Sans was learning. Thanks to his background in science, it wasn’t hard stuff to memorize compared to magic paired physics, as limited as it was. At least it was handy. It was, however, proving interesting. Did you know humans have _206_ _bones_ inside their body? Sure, he knew the whole skeleton thing from “experience”, but didn’t know how many bones they had. It almost makes him want to know how many bones _he_ has.

He’s not sure he has the patience to count _all_ of them, but it _is_ something he can do while he lies in bed, waiting for burdened sleep to come. At least his nightmares haven’t been so terrible lately. Since y/n’s been around, they’re mostly about them and some combination of _someone_ dying, whether or not it’s them doing the killing or them being the one killed. They leave him in a cold sweat nevertheless, and he usually always ends up outside his room and looking over the banister to watch y/n sleep.

It’s not until their last night on forced bedrest that he has a dream that is _extremely_ concerning, making him question everything.

 

 

 

 

Sans’ bones are thrumming, skeletal fingers entwined – but not tangled – in y/n’s hair, while he makes quick work of marking up and down their throat. The soft flesh is tender beneath his tongue and teeth, every taste leaving him with a want for more. The _best_ part is the way they’re struggling between him and the wall, beneath his tall stature as they _beg._

It’s a different begging than he’s used to, but he wants to fulfill it all the same.

Sans really isn’t sure what to do with himself other than keep going, and like all dreams, nothing exists outside of what he’s currently focused on. It’s just him and them, and even _if_ he could think straight beyond the feel of their pulse under his canines, he’s not sure he’d be able to stop. It’s too intoxicating, too much, and Sans wants it all – he wants every part of them, mind, body, and _soul_.

It’s when they arch into him, pressing against him in all the right places saying his name that he wakes up.

“fuck.” He’s taking long, deep breaths, trying to calm himself.

He didn’t know he felt this way.

He _shouldn’t_ feel this way.

It’s wrong.

_It’s wrong._

Running his tongue along his teeth, Sans can’t help but shoot a quick thought to how they might taste. They already smelled pleasant enough. A quick taste wouldn’t hurt, right?

_NO!_

Sans takes a _very_ cold shower.

 

 

 

 

He hates them.

He _has_ to. It’s only right.

They’re nothing but moronic if they think they can get by on kindness, justice, and gratitude. Granted, it’s probably more than any of the monsters down here have ever experienced, but if y/n wasn’t careful – or Sans and Papyrus weren’t there – they’d be swallowed whole in a place like this. Just – why couldn’t they be another crybaby, or bigoted murderous asshole? Or – hell – a _child?_

Those resets only ever lasted a day or two. It’d already been about two months. The only other time it’d been this long –

No. Not – no thinking about that. Not now. Not _ever._

But here y/n is, standing in the snow and sticking their tongue out. Papyrus is watching from the corner of his eyes, besides Sans with crossed arms, even though the shorter skeleton can feel his brother’s soul pulse in amusement. A snowflake lands delicately on their tongue, and they smile, making a funny face as it melts.

“Tastes funny.” They murmur, now taking a curious look at the grey, monotonous sky above.

“not exactly fresh.” Sans murmurs, knowing all too well the snow was from moisture that was repeatedly recycled among the underground. Sure, they had filters, but it would _never_ be fresh.

He doesn’t look away from y/n, as they shrug and start to gather some snow in their hands.

No, never.

It’s then that they launch a snowball right into Papyrus’ face, the skeleton caught off guard. He turns, faking anger, as y/n smiles and sticks out their tongue before throwing another. This one misses, but the intent is all the same, their soul flickering in mirth.

“Human! I see it is your intention to fight me, the GREAT and MIGHTY Papyrus!” The head of the royal guard begins to gather snow in his hands, as Sans decides to get comfortable. Leaning against their home, he watches through lidded eyes. “I shall warn you, human! No one has EVER bested ME!”

“Oh yeah? Come and get me!” y/n ducks behind a tree, tossing another snowball that misses. Sans thinks that maybe, they’re missing on purpose. Or they’re a terrible shot.

“This is WAR, human!”

The next one doesn’t miss.


	5. Struggle

Going around town since the incident is actually enjoyable. He doesn’t get so many threats nowadays as he does fearful glances, especially when one of Canine Unit is around and _literally_ runs away, tail between their legs. Monsters actually respect him now, and it’s nice. Sure, it draws unnecessary attention that he’s certain is going to alert Asgore about the human, but it’s not all bad. Sans can only hope Papyrus puts in a good word.

Grillbys is more or less the same. The flame elemental still serves him in the same silent manner as usual, and he’s actually _welcomed_ into the bar now. Tonight is different, however, when he walks in and finds y/n already sitting at the bar. Surprisingly there’s no one inside, just them and Grillby as the two talk quietly.

The flame elemental crackles in recognition of Sans’ entry, y/n turning on the barstool to smile brightly at Sans. The skeleton battles down what _used_ to be anger, leaving a nervous iron ball in his gut. He takes his seat, noting they already have a burger and fries.

“hey doll, grillby. the usual.” Grillby nods in response, wordlessly leaving to go into the kitchen and get Sans his order.

“Hey Sans.” y/n eats a few fries, eyes constantly pulled to the food as they smile happily. He’s not surprised they like the food. It’s good shit.

“how you expect to pay for that, doll?” They pause, smiling mischievously at him.

“Magic.” They wiggle their fingers, and Sans finds himself actually curious how they expect to pay.

It’s then that Grillby comes back, setting a serving of fries and a bottle of mustard in front of Sans. The skeleton monster nods in appreciation, continuing to douse his fries in half the bottle. He notices y/n’s eyes on him as he starts to chug the bottle, and he meets their gaze when he sets it down.

“somethin’ ticklin’ your _funny bone_ , sweetheart?”

When they blush, it makes Sans’ soul flutter.

He _hates_ it.

“Nothing.” They turn away from him, as if they can sense his sudden irritation. Whatever. Sans shrugs, going back to his food. They eat in relative silence, as Grillby cleans a few glasses only a few feet away. Sans is once again struck by the emptiness of the place, and wonders where everyone went.

Eventually y/n pulls out some gold, placing it out on the counter in front of them. Sans watches as they smile warmly at Grillby, bumping into Sans affectionately as they hop off the barstool.

“Thanks Grillby.” They start to walk away, pausing at the door. “Uh – see you at home, Sans.”

 

 

 

 

Sans is struggling.

Laying in the tangled duvet on top of his bed, idly rubbing his thumb and middle finger together, he wonders if the soft silk his mind makes out y/n’s skin to be is true. He’s been dreaming again, and once again he awoke feeling disgusted, horny, and anxious. He _shouldn’t feel this way_ but after a constant week of dreams that either have him fucking y/n silly or just holding their hand in the cold, he’s not sure if he should fight it anymore.

(besides, it just makes him hate them more.)

(and it _is_ getting harder to find reasons to hate y/n. 

(fuck.)

 

 

 

 

It’s the next day when he’s sitting at his sentry doing fuck all that Papyrus approaches, the snow crunching under his heavy feet. The white bliss around them falls heavily and without sound, piling onto the top of the tall skeleton without mercy. The only deviation from the pure white is the orange flame of his eyes and the black and red coloring of his armor. Sans notices his brother even before Papyrus knocks heavily into the side of the wooden stand.

“yeah boss?” Sans speaks softly, taking note of the pure, quiet stillness around them.

It reminds him of y/n.

Sans grinds his teeth.

Papyrus says nothing for a few beats, as if he, too, is taking notice of the winter wonderland they find themselves in. Everything is encased in white, and Sans wonders what, or rather where, y/n is. Hopefully somewhere warm – he doesn’t want to have to save their scrawny ass from the cold again.

(he can’t stand the image of them curled in the snow, deathly still and blue.)

“Sans.” Immediately Sans looks up, fingers wrapped tightly around the edge of the table in his sentry stand, the worn grooves on the underside made from him constantly digging his bony phalanges in. It’s a bit of a nervous habit by now, even if he doesn’t know he does it. “I have a task for you.”

Papyrus looks serious – well, more serious than usual. Which is saying something – ever since y/n came around he’d been… lighter. Less burdened. Sans wonders if he’s brought up the human situation up with Asgore yet.

(an image of y/n, impaled on the king’s trident, gasping out and reaching for sans.)

Sans hides his grimace. 

“I have been… delegating with Asgore upon a ‘circumstance’ in which if a human were to fall down and they were… not _as cruel_ as our stories say. Say, if they were kind.”

“and?” Sans knows he shouldn’t trivialize this. This is do or die, at least, for a certain human in their care. Besides, what did Papyrus want _Sans_ to do about it? Politics weren’t his thing. Science, killing, puns, eating his weight in mustard… well, those were all in the possible realm of things Sans would do professionally if he didn’t already have a job he could sleep all day at.

Papyrus gives him a scorning glare for interrupting. “There are _certain monsters_ who would be against such a delegation,” Oh. Sans’ usual grin morphed into a devilish smirk. He knows what Papyrus wants – but lets him explain anyways. “It’d be a shame if they ruined such a thing before it could come to fruition. You see where I am going, don’t you, brother?”

The white of Sans’ eyes flick up to his brother for a moment, and his smile spreads even further.

“I don’t care what is done to make them silent. But I _will_ say I do _not_ need to spontaneously replace valued members of my guard.”

Sans falters, but only for a split moment. He can do that. He can _gladly_ do that.

The only hard part is finding a little restraint.

 

 

 

 

Doggo, Dogamy, and Dogaressa are first.

It’s not hard, either, when Sans finds all of them in front at Doggo’s sentry, the two hooded sentries nuzzling together quietly as Doggo smokes on a dog treat. It’s all a little too calm for the short skeleton’s taste, the white pinpricks of his eyes looking like nothing other than falling snow from where he’s standing in the trees.

Hmm. Should he rough them up, or just leave them with a vague warning? Part of him still wants them dead, but then again, y/n had asked _so_ _nicely._

Conjuring his tongue just to spit out red saliva and get rid of a bad taste in his mouth is probably completely unnecessary. But so is worrying about it this much.

Whatever.

Stepping out of the tree line is a lot similar to last time, every head turning his way. Immediately ears pin back, nuzzling stops, and a half-smoked dog treat is left to chill in the snow. Sans is elated to find out he can hear their magic pulsing in response to their terror, the icy wind resonating in his hollow bones.

There’s a few painful awkward moments where they all just stare at Sans, the skeleton completely in his element. He has all the power here, and _they_ _know it._

“didn’t meant to _rattle your bones._ ” He pauses, running his ghost tongue along his teeth and looking away, eyes then sliding back. “then again, maybe i did.”

“What do you want, Sans? Haven’t you…”

“…done enough?”

Sans’ smile can only go so far, really.

“aw, _throw me a bone_ here.” He laughs, really enjoying the fear clouding the air. It’s almost tangible, and for once, it’s not human. It’s _monster._ Monsters are _scared_ of _Sans._ It’s really, really nice. Exhilarating. “i just wanted to make sure you understood what i was trying to get across last time.”

Their souls are blue, their bodies tinged red as they struggle and cry out, lifted above the snow. Their pleas fall on deaf ears, and Sans knows they are only just beginning to repent for their sins.

“no one hurts my human.”

They come to an agreement, eventually.

 

 

 

 

Sans finds he doesn’t have to look for Lesser Dog and Greater Dog.

The two mutts flounder into the clearing, halfway through his ‘pleasant’ conversation with Dogamy, Dogaressa, and Doggo.

“didn’t know you two were so _bonely_.”

 They’d always been such good dogs, for the royal guard.


	6. Senseless

Grillbys.

Or rather, _Grillby._

Sans always knew the old fire elemental had a weak spot. A _tinder_ side, so to speak. (heh.) There’d been rumors the old monster was older than even Asgore, and that he’d been here even before the barrier fell. That he knew what humans were _really_ like, and that he was one of the strongest boss monsters there was.

Sans wasn’t sure Grillby was a boss monster, but for all he knew about Grillby, the fire elemental could be a human in disguise.

It’s when Sans enters the bar near closing - when there’s only two other patrons – and approaches the bar that he hears y/n’s voice. From the sounds of it it’s them and Grillby talking, but out of sight. Ah. In the kitchen, then?

Sans just stays where he is on the barstool, processing the information. There really was only two – three reasons they’d be behind the bar, in the kitchen. No, four. But two of them are _very_ similar.

One – You and Grillby were a thing.

Ew. If Sans had a nose, he’d be scrunching it in disgust.

Two – Grillby was going to kill you and take your soul.

Three – Grillby wanted to see if Human tasted any good.

Again, not in _that_ sense. Stop thinking of it, Sans.

Gross.

(and yet he keeps having those thoughts and dreams.)

(hypocrite.)

Four – Grillby had given y/n a job.

While four seemed the most reasonable, two of those reasons involved Grillby killing them. Half. There was a half chance they were being brutally murdered, but then again, Sans could still hear their voice. And y/n didn’t sound like they were in distress, so that had to be good, right? Yeah, right.

Right?

His legs were swinging, his thumbs once again pressed into the underside of the bar.

_jeez, sans. someone might think you actually care._

_shut it._

The voice kindly takes its leave.

It’s then that Grillby walks out of the kitchen, only pausing slightly when he notices Sans at the bar. Besides the small surprise at seeing the skeleton monster in so late, Grillby is playing cool, as if nothing is up. As if he hasn’t hired (or was dating, ew) a human. Sans knows better, his eye sockets lidded as he leans over the bar.

“seen y/n around, grillby?”

There’s a few casual sparks in return. _“Yes.”_

“that so?” Wasn’t even hiding it. Then again, Grillby didn’t seem like the type to lie. Or be ashamed of hiring a human. He’d never been a strong voice about his opinions – pro or anti human, Sans can never recall him being asked. He’d always just been… Grillby. The walking fire monster, who served magic infused flammable liquids.

(sans had once watch a monster spill his drink on the fire elemental and promptly turn to dust upon contact with the vivid, agitated flames.)

“well, if you see ‘em again, tell ‘em sansy wants to talk to ‘em.”

Not really. He’s just saying so to tease Grillby. Like _hell_ he wants to talk to _them._

The flame elemental seemingly huffs, pulling out a mustard bottle and placing it in front of Sans. He turns away. Whatever. Sans shrugs, and wordlessly downs half the bottle, leaning into his arms which are crossed on the bar in front of him. Setting his head down, he has a blurry view of Grillby as the fire elemental as they clean a few glasses. 

Maybe… he could shut his eyes… but only for a few minutes…

 

 

 

 

“Sans?” There’s a gentle touch prodding his shoulder, a soft voice calling out to reach him from his dreamless sleep. “Sans, _bonehead,_ it’s time to wake up.”

The gentle prodding turns into an occasional shake of his shoulder, the sleep skeleton dopily opening a single eye just enough to see who it is. Of fucking course. Closing his eyes once more, he groans softly, shifting enough so they can realize he’s up now and they can stop shaking him. It was kind of ~~nice~~ annoying.

“‘sup, doll?” They jump into his shoulder again, and he opens his eyes lazily to see they’re sitting next to him now. He tries to hide the way his soul is fluttering. And that he can’t manage more than frustration in his sleepy state.

“C’mon Sans.” Y/n laughs, and it’s such a pleasing, melodic sound.

_oh my god what am i thinking?_

_holy shit._

_no._

They don’t look troubled at all by Sans’ sudden issue, his brow furrowed and eyes narrow. They just smile, tugging at the skeleton’s sleeve. Sans is definitely awake now, and wonders how y/n isn’t aware of how suddenly hostile he is. They really can’t be that oblivious, right?

“Let’s go home.”

_Home._

“you think that’s _your home?_ ” He snaps, lifting his head from his arms. “i don’t think you understand, kiddo. you live in the fucking shed. don’t call _my_ home _yours_.”

They look taken back, reeling into themselves.

Sans isn’t done.

“and just so you fucking know i am so _fucking tired_ of your stupid _human_ bullshit.” Sans is standing now, towering over y/n. Sans doesn’t realize until just now how much _bigger_ he is then them. “you’re more trouble than your worth, brat. i should’ve just let pap collar ya and call you his fuckin pet. no – I should’ve just left you in the snow to die. i don’t even know why I saved your scrawny bitch ass!

“who the fuck _are you,_ anyways?!” Sans is shouting now, his left eye flickering a deathly red. From the way his magic pulses in the bar, he can tell no one else is here. Part of Sans wonders where Grillby is, but a larger part of him is _screaming,_ the familiar rush of his magic burning his bones. “who the _fuck_ do you _think_ you are, making me so fucking _confused_?

“i can’t _sleep_ at night because of you. i can’t think – what the fuck is _wrong_ with you? we’d all be better off with you dead.” y/n is quiet, eyes downcast, and he can’t see their face. That won’t do. No, not at all. He brings his hand up from his side, lifting their chin delicately, as if he isn’t telling them how much he wants them dead. How much he wants to kill them.

He looks into their eyes, lost for a few moments by the wells of sorrow they are.

_fuck._

He smiles crookedly, dangerously, and leans forward until he can feel them shiver from the barely-there touch of his mouth on their ear.

“and yet, i wanna fuck you senseless.”

There. He’s said it.

Happy?


	7. Jaded

Sans doesn’t know how he got there, but _boy is he there._

(he teleported, he remembers, between frantic moments of bone against skin.)

y/n’s body is pressed flush against his own and he is fucking _owning_ them _,_ putting every part of what he feels for them in the way he presses the flexible bone of his mouth over their own. His hatred, his confusion, his _need._ It almost seems like it’s too much for them; they’re arching into him, hair crazy, chest heaving, and they’re making these _beautiful_ little needy sounds that drive Sans insane.

The best part is they’re pressing back, somewhat hesitantly, but slowly gaining momentum.

Sans literally growls, the primal noise sending a reverberation through his bones. He knows y/n can feel it with him pressed this close, and they shiver in response. Sans is lost, so _fucking lost._ His mind is going a mile a second, thinking about nothing but y/n, and how much he needs this. How much he’s wanted this and why _the hell_ had he fought himself over this? It’s beautiful. It’s carnal.

It’s _perfect,_ with Sans’ erratic advances and y/n’s heavy breathing.

In-between y/n’s frantic gasps for air, he reaches to grab them and toss them onto his bed –

There’s a few loud knocks on his bedroom door.

“SANS!”

Groaning in frustration, Sans leans over y/n, hitting the wall above their head with his hand. God dammit! He was _so fucking close._ The human only blinked up at him curiously, before a soft, dreamy smile began to slowly span across their soft lips. And Sans can say they’re soft because now, he knows.

He smirks roguishly in return. Sans wants to know what the rest of y/n feels like.

_“SANS!”_

Later. Right.

Turning away from y/n and running a hand along his skull, he opens his bedroom door with narrow eyes and a snarl.

“ _what_?” Papyrus narrows his eyes, but something’s off. He’s sweating and he looks like he’s in a rush. Like something’s happened. Immediately, Sans perks up, eye-lights roaming his brother’s form before settling on his own eye-lights. “what’s wrong, boss?" 

“Brother, I need your assistance. Another human has fallen.” Papyrus grimaces and lowers his voice as Sans’ soul thunders in his chest. He can even hear y/n go still behind him, and Sans hopes they can’t hear his brother. “And they are killing monsters.”

 

 

 

 

Not another one. Sans doesn’t _need_ another human. He’s just beginning to warm up to the one he has now, and there’s _another?_ Holy shit, what if this one could reset? What if _killing_ them reset? He didn’t want to lose y/n, not yet. Not ever, really.

Would a reset caused by the new human bring them back to the beginning again? Or right when the new human had arrived? Did that mean y/n was permanently apart of the underground now, trapped in the resets? Would they remember, like Sans? Or would they relive the same days over and over and over again with no clue?

_stop it._

He shakes his head, aware of how his thoughts are running away from him. He needs to focus on the now, and on figuring out a way to defuse the situation at hand. Part of Sans just wants to hide away in his room with y/n, but he knows he can’t. He’s got to help his brother, and capture or kill the human, and taking their soul. Hopefully _without_ invoking a reset.

Glancing up at the tall skeleton standing proudly besides him, Sans wondered what this new human was like. From what Papyrus had said, they were a guy, attacking monsters he came across without any warning. Sans wonders how many he’s dusted, and assumes he’ll have his answer when he examines their soul.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

Sans and Papyrus are standing a few feet apart in the middle of a frozen over clearing, one Sans recognizes as where he fought the canine unit. His thoughts flicker to y/n, and he hopes they stayed put at the house. He didn’t need them doing anything stupid – then again, they didn’t seem _that_ dumb. Bright, in Sans’ opinion.

It’s when his thoughts turn to y/n and a vague notation of them in a lab coat that the human appears. Well, doesn’t _appear._ Like, not out of thin air or anything. Sans and Papyrus actually have a lot of forewarning leading to their arrival. Someone’s screaming, and to Sans and Papyrus, it sounds like a kid. A familiar one at that.

MK comes crying, running into the clearing from the left, falling face forward before they get very far. The child curls up and starts to sob, pleading and begging for his parents. Sans immediately reaches out, but is beaten to it by Papyrus, who puts up his own hand, the black leather glove encased in the taller skeleton’s orange magic. They both wait.

Moments later the human appears, darting out of the wintry forest and towards Monster Kid, a dust-coated knife in their white-knuckled grip. However, before they can get to him, Papyrus summons a wall of bones between him and the child. Sans fights the urge to snicker, hands in his coat pockets, as the human looks dumbfounded.

Upon hearing Sans’ quiet laughter, the ugly human turns the skeleton’s way, fear, uncertainty, and then finally anger settling on his face. Sans’ smile grows crueler, watching as MK picks himself up with a soft shuffle and teary eyes. The small monster takes one look at the tense situation from Sans, to Papyrus, to the human, and then runs off in the direction of Snowdin.

Smart kid.

“HUMAN!” Papyrus is shouting, even though he doesn’t need to. It seems to unease the human anyways, their grip on the knife slipping slightly. “I AM THE GREAT AND MIGHTY PAPYRUS, AND I HAVE COME TO COLLECT YOUR SOUL. A MONSTER MURDERER LIKE YOU HAS NO SUCH USE FOR ONE.”

Sans doesn’t say anything, and feels he doesn’t need to. He doesn’t even need to _be_ here. Papyrus is strong – but Sans has seen timelines pass where a human got to his brother and killed them. Sans wants to be sure, and besides, Papyrus wanted him to come.

Suddenly the human does something _really_ stupid.

Monumentally stupid.

More stupid then… well, Sans isn’t quite sure.

The human grips his knife and _charges_ at Papyrus, yelling, and is immediately launched back across the clearing.

This having been done by a very amused Sans, who is pointedly ignoring Papyrus’ huff of indignation. Whatever. Sans took care of it. And is continuing to take care of it, hand out stretched with red magic as the human struggles in his grip. Sans rolls his shoulders – or lack thereof – and starts to walk towards the human, past Papyrus’ previous wall of bones that is now fizzing into ash.

Standing over the human, Sans smiles widely, giving him a lazy look.

He’s not much. Adult, maybe y/n’s age? Fuck – how was he to know? His hair was greyish? Black? His eyes were bright blue, as cold and icy as Snowdin’s forests. His form was stocky, buff, but he was only wearing cargo pants and a t-shirt. Metal tags? Was that what those silver things around his neck were?

“buddy,” Sans lifts him up with a clear look of disgust, trying to get a better look at his soul. “that’s a lot of LOVE ya’ got there.”

 

**_* CHECK_ **

“ **???** ”

 **LV** 12 **HP** 58/64

 **ATK** 32 (60) **DEF** 12 (22)

_* His skilled ability with a knife sickens you._

 

 

His soul, a sickly brownish orange which _normally_ stood for bravery, is called out quite easily. It twitches and convulses under Sans’ intense stare, the surface rippling intensely and with brutal strength. It’s a strong, hardy soul that seems a little jagged in its shape, most likely built from years of indifference and ignorance.

This soul was _jaded_.

“ _Put… me down…_ ” Through clenched teeth the human speaks, his soul darkening with its intentions. Sans, eye-bones raised, chuckles at the human’s endeavors. He was a hell of a feisty sack of flesh, if the dust coating his skin, clothes, and hair was anything to go by. Sans both admired and hated him ferociously.

“hey boss!” Sans looks over his shoulder, looking at a very disgusted Papyrus. He too, doesn’t like the look of the human’s soul. That, and in Sans’ opinion, the human isn’t much to look at anyways. “i think we got some kind of guard or somethin’.”

Papyrus’ eyes light up, the tall skeleton monster walking over with confident steps, the soft snow crunching underfoot. Sans turns back to the human in the grasp of his magic, his grin growing devilish when he notices a spark of fear trying to ignite panic in his soul. Sans was always a talented monster when it came to perceiving magic and souls, and right now it only fueled his manic glee.

Sans sighs dreamily, thinking of other souls he had yet to see.

Too bad y/n wasn’t here.


	8. Alone

Humans have _so much blood._

Sans sees a lot of it when he glances inside the shed, the single room structure having been quickly set up as an interrogation room and holding cell for their new ‘friend’. Papyrus and Doggo are inside, trying to make the human fess up to all he knows about the humans on the outside. Sans had been right. This human – Richard, he remembers disdainfully – had been a former soldier of some kind of army. For what, Sans hasn’t caught yet, but he has heard a lot of threats and swears.

Shutting the door quickly, the short skeleton shoots a sly grin to the rest of the Snowdin canine unit who wait nearby, all of them lounging in the snow but by no means relaxed. They are extremely aware of Sans, and he doesn’t blame them. He still doesn’t think it was right of him to let them get away alive. Then again, Papyrus would’ve killed Sans for dusting them.

Turning towards the direction of Grilbys, Sans wonders idly when y/n will come trudging along, ankle deep in the snow. Word must’ve spread by now about the appearance of a new human. Perhaps he should go pick them up, or something? They’d need to know they’re sleeping on the couch, at least.

Sans sighs, slouching back with his hands in his coat pockets, deciding he might as well go meet y/n there. They’re off soon, aren’t they? Besides with everyone busy right now, no one would notice if Sans and the human disappeared for a few hours. They had business to attend to.

Alone.

Sans can’t help the sly grin that carves its way across his mouth.

“Sans,” From behind Sans the shed door opens, the sound of broken sobbing escaping the warm building and into the cold howling snow. The shorter skeleton turns to face Papyrus, the taller skeleton shaking his gloves in disgust as red blood paints the snow. It’s all over the head of the royal guard’s boots, and a bigger part of his armor. The stench of it clouds the air, making the mutts of the canine unit turn towards Papyrus with a different kind of interest. At least Papyrus didn’t get any on his bones.

“yeah, boss?” Sans is curious why his brother wants him. Besides, this is all great news. The last soul they need is here, and if it doesn’t cause a reset upon taking it, Sans can keep y/n.

Keeping y/n. Has a nice ring to it.

“I want you to keep y/n away from the prisoner.” Papyrus orders, giving Sans a serious look. “If you tell them, it does not matter. I do not yet trust them enough to see the other human. There is no telling where their allegiance may lie in the next few days. I recommend you keep a close eye on them, brother.”

Sans is offended, turning away to face the cold once more in order to hide a grimace. Besides, y/n wouldn’t try anything with this asshat, right? The human – Richard, he remembers once more - _murdered_ monsters. His death is justified, the use of his ugly-colored soul righteous. It was almost like he would be redeeming himself, at least, in Sans’ eyes.

But y/n didn’t know that, did they?

Shit. Had any of this been explained the them yet?

Sans would have to do it, then.

“And Sans?” Papyrus’ voice is gentler, but there’s an edge to it that wasn’t there before.

“yeah, pap?” _Pap._ It’s been years since he’s called him that.

“If y/n betrays us…” Papyrus trails off, before saying something that nearly breaks Sans’ soul in how hard it shudders.

“ _You take their soul._ ”

 

 

 

 

y/n is smiling.

y/n is smiling and yet Sans’ soul isn’t doing that funny thing it does that usually pisses him off. There’s a weak thud, but apart from that, nothing. It must reflect on his face because they suddenly stop, the fistful of Sans’ sleeve in their grip making him stop too. He huffs, turning to them with a lazy indifference.

“yeah, doll?” He takes time to notice how they’re shivering, despite having multiple layers. The blizzard’s especially strong today, another reason he wanted to walk y/n home. Sans is much bigger than them, too. It surprises him, from time to time, how such a small human took him completely by surprise. He isn’t quite sure if he hates them anymore.

“What’s wrong?” y/n is frowning, crossing their arms with an impatient look. Sans can’t help but think about how they have some _unfinished business –_

_If y/n betrays us… you take their soul._

_fukin’ papyrus._

“nothin’ much, sweetheart.” He pauses, eye-lights sliding to the side before coming back to y/n. “didja hear the news?”

“What’s that?” They still look skeptical, but at least he’s distracted them. Then again, he still isn’t sure he wants to tell them. He’s lucky they haven’t heard yet.

“there’s another human.”

His keeps his gaze strictly on y/n, expecting, waiting. They go still, despite their body still shivering from the cold. There’s a pensive look in their eyes as they look out to the forest behind Sans, and the skeleton monster can’t help but wonder what’s on their mind. They don’t _look_ angry. Maybe… excited?

Hell, he doesn’t blame them.

(he’s a little jealous)

“Can I see them?” They ask, absentmindedly. Sans’ soul drops.

“i don’t think you understand, doll,” he murmurs, trying to catch their attention. He succeeds, his eyes drawn distractedly to the way they bite their lip. “they’re a monster killer.”

 

 

 

 

Waterfall, as usual, is beautiful.

Sans has taken y/n to Waterfall, to a spot filled with Echo flowers and luminescent puddles that reflect the starry cavern above. He isn’t quite sure where to start – both with how he now feels, and what y/n should know. It’s a lot to go over, and it’s probably going to be a lot to take in.

Should he tell y/n about the resets? About how each time a different human falls, and how each time there’s a reset? Sans has long given up hope on seeing the surface, but that doesn’t mean he can’t wish for some kind of stability here, in The Underground. And with y/n, he has hope.

It’s electrifying.

“you’ve been awful patient, sweetheart.” Sans notes, sitting with his back to a stony wall. There’s an echo flower to his right, a doorway to his far left. y/n sits on his left, crossing their legs as they stare out into the lit-up depths of Waterfall.

“I figured I’d get to know something eventually.” They state, and Sans admires their confidence. Besides, for a long time their mind must’ve just been set on survival, not lore and history. It’s good to have your priorities straight here in The Underground.

“well, sweetheart, ‘m not sure where to start.” He reaches up with a bony phalange, scratching his skull. He’s sweating. Damn it. He’s never had to tell this story before.

No, wait. He did once. But he doesn’t like to think about that anymore.

“Whenever you’re ready.” They smile at him, turning their face his way with a reassuring grin. It’s just so _them,_ to be comforting him _._ He chuckles weakly, a little stars-struck as his soul shivers.

“just… gimme a few. ‘kay, doll?”

“Sure.”


	9. Falter

In the next few minutes, Sans almost kills y/n.

Twice.

He’s livid that he’s allowed himself to care this much for a human – if it even _is that._ But he does know he’s attracted to them. Extremely so. The “how” and “why” allude him, but he feels it in his soul, with how it resonates just by being near them.

He’s thought before about how y/n gives him hope.

How it was terrifying, rage-inducing, mind-numbing, and _addictive_.

How he decided it was _his._

How _they_ were his.

Fuck.

He really, really likes y/n. 

_Fuck!_

 

 

 

“the underground,” Sans starts, looking out into Waterfall with a blank expression. There’s a large abyss of ethereal darkness surrounding them, paired with the echoed sound of rushing water and long-forgotten whispers of the past being reflected by petals and puddles. Sans refuses to look at y/n while he tells this story – he just can’t do it. “is full to the brim with monsters. we weren’t always here. thousands of years ago there was a war, and the humans trapped us here with a barrier. it took seven human souls to create the barrier, and it’ll take seven more to bring it down.”

He lets in a deep breath, his body shuddering on the exhale.

“six. we have six souls, and counting the new human, we have seven.” He pauses, and all of a sudden the silent air feels constricting – judging, hateful even. Sans feels like he needs to explain himself. He needs to defend his actions. “they were all monster killers, y/n. every single one of ‘em had dust on their hands, LOVE in their souls.” He doesn’t mean to sound so vindictive, however, his eye sockets going blank. “i’m fukin’ glad i stopped the fucker red handed. he – richard or whatever the fucks name was – was chasin’ a god damn _child_ with a _knife!_ i should’ve taken his fukin’ soul right then an’ there.”

He lets out a long sigh, letting his anger dissipate. It’ll pay no good.

“we monsters weren’t so bad, once upon a time.” He sees a few flashes of his past – him, smiling next to a toddler-sized Papyrus as they play with his brother’s toys. The two of them having a snowball fight with other kids their ages in Snowdin’s town square. “we just… grew bitter. negative energy an’ shit, like static buildup, just kept growin’ and it affected us all. an’ now we really are fukin’ monsters.”

“You shouldn’t curse so much.” y/n chides, surprising the short skeleton. His eye lights flicker over to find a smiling human, their eyes brightly lit with wonder and something he can almost call love. Not for him, but for everything around them.

For a moment Sans sputters, and he wants to hate them again. It’d been so much easier when he hated them.

“you’re really fukin’ weird, y’know that?” Sans doesn’t mean to sound so rude, but y/n just shrugs it off.

“It doesn’t matter what you used to be. All of you. I’ve been shown more _genuine_ kindness down here than anywhere else.” Were they talking about the same Underground he was? Full of human-hunting, murderous, LOVE filled monsters? “You saved my life for no reason other than to save it. You and Papyrus took me in. I got a well-paying job at Grilbys. I even have friends, though _I_ _should be dead._ ”

y/n stands, stretching and then holding their hand out for Sans. The skeleton just stares, put off, unsure of what to do. Their smile only grows wider as they gesture for him to take the offered hand and stand.

Unsure, Sans takes it, pulling himself to his feet. They almost fall when he pulls, and it’s funny enough to make him crack a bit of a genuine smile.

“And I’ve got a big-boned pun-cracking skeleton who apparently wants to bone me.” They laugh, flashing their eyes suggestively. “Sans, I don’t care what you see in everything down here, whether it’s rainbows, unicorns, and sunshine or not. I’m happy with it. I’m… happy with you.”

Sans’ soul squeezes uncomfortably in his chest, as he continues to sweat.

“can i…” Sans pauses, standing directly in front of y/n now. He glances nervously at their chest, placing his fingers where his sternum would be. They look a little surprised, but notice Sans’ shy, unsure tone. “can i see your soul?”

Fuck.

Sans isn’t sure what to think right now. He’s just asked for the most intimate thing a monster could do – and yet y/n is smiling happily, hands by their side.

Holy shit are they going to say yes?

“As long as you promise not to eat it.” They tease, and Sans feels his own soul soar.

“are you – are you sure?” He’s not sure they understand the implications. He _really_ wants to look at their soul – he’s only been able to feel it, and he’s determined to memorize its shade and shape. Whether it’s a soft, vibrant soul, or a vacant, cracked one – he just doesn’t know. And it frustrates him – he’s _known_ for being a talented soul reader.

y/n just nods, and Sans grins sharply.

He draws his hand away from their chest, crooking a finger as if asking the soul itself to come out. There’s a bright glow as a heart-shaped object floats out from y/n’s chest. It’s too bright to make out for a few moments, until finally, Sans can see it.

It’s beautiful.

 

 

 

 

Later, when they walk together towards their home, y/n starts giggling. Sans, caught off guard, stops and gazes curiously at his little human.

“Y’know, Richard is a bit of a _dick._ ” Sans frowns, grin faltering. He’s certain he’s missing something – some play on words, especially with the way they’re looking at him expectantly. Some kind of joke?

“i don’t get it.”


	10. Forget

“… _who’s there_ … _?"_

The sudden intrusion in the silence is so soft Sans almost misses it, but it’s there, in a precious moment between the pulsing of his magic. The human – Richard – is speaking, despite having been tortured long enough to have his voice become a dry whisper, passing out only a few hours prior to now. Sans had thought he was asleep, the skeleton having only been inside the shed to watch him for a few minutes. He wanted to be sure he didn’t try anything – because fuck if he was going to take any chances with y/n here.

Did Richard know y/n existed?

“say, you’ve been a real _dick_ ,” Sans’ grin glints dangerously from what light drifts in through a barred window, his bulky frame against the furthest wall from the human. The skeleton had gotten a bit of a laugh once y/n explained to him the synonymy of the two names. He has _plenty_ of dick jokes in mind by now, and he can’t wait to use them all. “ _dicking_ around like that. disgusting, really.”

“You’re… disgusting…” The human breathes out, and the slight tinge of humor in his voice sets Sans on edge. He _hates_ this human. In a completely different way than he’s ever hated _anybody._ Other humans? Maybe. Other monsters, like Doggo? Close. But he’s never wanted to kill someone so many times over that he _fantasizes_ it.

Part of him is a little disgusted.

A bigger part wants to see if the anatomy book he read was lying on exactly how many bones are in the human body, using the specimen before him.

“what would _you_ know about that?” Sans snaps, eye-lights the only _real_ light in the room, their circular shape pinned on the bloodied lump that was curled on y/n’s mattress. The soft bed was now stripped, sullied by blood, sweat, and urine – if the smell of it was anything to go by. The human looked so _pathetic,_ his soul compact in size, its shade such a sluggish dulled orange that you might as well call it brown. It was shivering so violently Sans was surprised he was still hanging on.

Thankfully, the human stays quiet.

“ _you’re disgusting._ ” Sans hisses, feeling his magic start to boil. No, _no_ , he can’t afford to act independently. He shouldn’t even be here. For all he knows things might reset when _Dick_ dies, and Sans knows he should spend what time he has doing other, more important things. Either bugging y/n, going back to the old crusade of trying to _stop_ the resets, or sleeping.

Sans fought the urge to yawn, knowing sleep sounded great right now.

(he doesn’t bother wondering why he yawns anymore. He doesn’t _need_ to breathe, but he supposes he doesn’t need to _yawn_ either.)

“you _deserve_ this, bud. at least, this way, your life is worth _something._ ” Sans chuckles, dark and hollow. “but first, you’re gonna have a bit of a **bad time.** ”

“Fuck off.” The human grumbles, but there’s a bit of unease in his voice, enough to make Sans’ grin grow sharper in the shafts of pseudo-moonlight.

“fine.”

Sans is gone from the dreary shed with a wink and a tear through the void.

 

 

 

 

He lands himself right inside the living room of his house.

There’s a sudden rush of tension that leaves his body as soon as he’s away from Dick, now mere feet away from y/n’s sleeping form. He’s standing in the middle of the room, right before the couch his human is laying on. They’re curled into themselves, the blankets adorning their body tucked in tightly between them and the couch to ward off any offending cold air.

He catches his mishap –

 _my human_.

Sans reaches forward, and brushes the edges of his fingers along y/n’s face, tucking away a few stray hairs. They twitch, but apart from that continue to sleep soundlessly. It’s endearing, and the gentle smile coaxed onto Sans’ face makes him wonder.

It wasn’t all too long ago that he hated them.

And now?

He’s not quite sure, but his soul flares almost painfully at the simple touch of his fingers on their skin. Slowly, his fingers trace down the smooth skin of their jaw, beneath the delicate edge of their chin, and down until he catches a faint pulsing beneath soft skin. He pauses, having found y/n’s pulse point, pressing lightly. It’s enough to let the lub-dub of y/n’s heart thrum in his sensitive phalanges, his magic electrifying it into an echo that resounds in his hollow bones.

His eyes trail from their face to their neck, the bare expanse of skin beckoning. But he _can’t_ , despite the way a translucent red tongue slides its way across his teeth, pricking itself pointedly on his canines. Not yet. Besides, he’d hate to ruin this tender moment, the steady rise and fall of their chest syncing with his own.

Sans’ eyes close, and for a few moments he forgets everything but this. He exists only right here, right now.

_lub-dub._

_lub-dub._

_lub-dub._

“g’night, doll.” He leans down, and with a feather-like touch, presses his teeth against their exposed forehead.

For once, he manages to sleep soundly through the night.


	11. Listen

Sans is the tiniest bit afraid when he wakes up.

His window lets in great swathes of dull wintry light, a clear sign it’s near noon.

He can’t hear _anything_ apart from the hum of his magic, the gentle rattle of his bones and rise and fall of his chest accompanied by rustling sheets.

No one is yelling at him.

He slept in.

He didn’t have a nightmare – _he didn’t even dream about y/n._

Slowly, as to not scare off such a precious moment, Sans opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling. His room is lit with muffled light, a light chill permeating the air and slicing across his bones. His sheets are thrown off of him, sprawled across the mattress just like he is. It’s so quiet it’s eerie, a small smile fitting across the charmed skeleton’s face.

He’s never slept in this long before – for once he feels well-rested, and a little curious about how the day might play out. y/n’s probably at work by now and Papyrus is probably doing _something_ with Dick. His brother must be distracted, if he let Sans get away with sleeping for this long. 

Humming under his breath, Sans starts to get ready for the day, a genuine smile on his face.

 

 

 

 

_what the fuck smells so good?_

Opening his eyes, the skeleton is quickly surprised to find himself face to plate with a steaming piece of cinnamon-butterscotch pie, the baked good placed temptingly on the surface of his sentry post. Huh, he must’ve fallen asleep – but who would’ve left _this_ here for _him_? It had to be for him, right? There was even a fork besides it all, a piece of silverware he was certain was from _his_ house.

Peering out into the cold, Sans didn’t see anybody near, confusion settling in his soul. Then, looking down, he recognized the boot prints in the snow as y/n’s.

Oh.

Shrugging, Sans dug in, flavor exploding on his metaphorical tongue.

How the fuck was this so _good?_

 

 

 

 

It’s late when Sans saunters up to Grilbys, in a deliberately good mood. Dogamy had begrudgingly stopped by his sentry station not too long after he’d polished off the slice of pie, shakily telling him Papyrus would be gone for a few days while he went to tell Asgore about _both_ humans. Dick was to remain locked up and without food or company until his return. Sans had shrugged it off, threatened the wimpy mutt, and went back to work (napping).

Right now, he’s determined to pick up y/n from their shift and take them home. They have unfinished business to attend to that is just the tiniest bit _pressing_ at the moment.

Shifting uncomfortably, he berates himself for daydreaming so much.

When the skeleton monster tries the door, he finds it unlocked and shoves it open and comes into the warm bar. No one’s here but the fire elemental himself, casually cleaning a few glasses per the usual. Sans walks up to the bar, hands in his coat pockets, taking a seat. He grins cheerfully at Grilby, before speaking.

“did i ever tell you how _hot_ you are, grillby?” Sans asks, propping his head up with a single hand on the bar. “seriously, is it getting _heated_ in here, or is it just me?”

 _“…they left already…”_ Grillby responds stoically, placing the glass back under the counter. Sans frowns, tensing for a few moments.

“thought they knew i was gonna’ pick them up today…?” Sans trails off, mumbling under his breath. It’s strange, really, that they’re not here. He’d told them when he saw them yesterday he’d walk them home tonight. He turns back to the fire elemental, a little unnerved. “so, uh, where _are_ they?”

 _“y/n went home twenty minutes ago.”_ The flame monster reaches up, adjusting his glasses as his flames flicker quizzically. _“They said they had to talk to somebody about something important… I thought they meant you."_  

Oh no.

 

 

 

 

Sans rips through the void carelessly, sloppily closing the rip behind him as he stumbles into a bank of snowfall. It’s dark out, and Sans can’t see much since he’s currently face down in the snow. He gets to his feet, shivering at the feeling of the frozen water pressed against his exposed bones, the sensitivity a curse.

He’s in front of his house, and if he looks over to the shed –

The lock’s missing.

“ ** _fuck_**!”

Sans is quick to flicker into existence before the now unlocked shed, wrapping his hand around the doorknob. For a few moments, he hesitates to open it, afraid. Did y/n betray them? There’s no way Dick got out on his own. No – _no!_ y/n wouldn’t betray them – betray _him!_

_they betrayed you, and **you let them.**_

**_no!_ **

Pressing his skull against the door softly, he grits his teeth, closes his eyes, and _listens._

Underneath the thrumming of his magic, the shifting of the wind, and the fall of snowflakes, Sans hears it.

Crying.

Sans slams the door open, and what the skeleton monster sees makes him tremble in fear.

Cupped gently in y/n’s hands, there lies a sickly, brown-orange soul.

“I’m s-so sorry, I didn’t – I didn’t do it!” y/n is shaking softly, and it’s then that Sans really looks around the shed.

Dick is lying, crumpled on the bed, as still as he was last night when Sans was here. Only now, he’s not breathing. But how – he was _dead_ now. How? y/n didn’t kill him, did they?

“what happened?” His voice is calloused and sharp, and it makes y/n shrink away and choke on a sob. Were they expecting _kindness?_

“I – I broke in… I only w-wanted to talk to him…” They begin, eyes only for the little soul in their hands. “I didn’t know… He was dying when I came in.”

They don’t say much more, Sans’ bones rattling softly as he walks over, ancient wood creaking under his weight. The floor is so _bloody_ from Dick’s torture. The shed itself is freezing cold, the ward the skeletons had placed on it to keep it warm having been removed. y/n themselves is shaking, their soul _so small_ with their fear.

When he falls to his knees before them, reaching out, y/n flinches and their soul shrinks away from his magic. Sans stiffens, before once more reaching forward and trying to pry to Dick’s soul away. For a few moments his human tries to pull back before slumping in defeat, watching with hollow eyes as Sans takes the precious cargo and brings it up to his face.

Suddenly, he grins sharply, the dull light given off by the soul lining his face with hauntingly disturbing shadows.

_He has the seventh soul._


	12. Consume

Before Sans, there lies two paths.

 _Both_ can lead him to the surface.

The first path is paved with hope and redemption – happiness, respect, and even traces of joy can be found in plain sight. There’s a lot of uncertainty and unknown down this road, but he knows that with choosing this path he’ll have the people his soul cares for supporting him every step of the way. It’ll take all of Sans’ self-control to choose such a terrifyingly new existence, partly _because_ he knows it’s the right thing to do.

Down the second path, Sans is a _god._

His stats are maxed, his HP (hope) higher than any before him. Anything he could ever want is his without question, all who stand before him dust in the wind. Everyone is beneath him, and it is an existence full of selfishness, control, and certainty. He will be stable for once, completely in charge of everything that could ever happen, and he would _enjoy_ it.

Then, the skeleton monster looks back on his past, suddenly haunted by all of his mistakes and self-loathing. 

He remembers with sudden clarity the first time he met Papyrus.

 

_“ **Here**.” Suddenly placed in his child-sized hands is a crying mess of small bones, a high pitched wail coming to a stop as large, orange-lit sockets rest on Sans’ red ones. He’s not quite sure what to do – but the baby-bones in his arms smiles, cooing softly. Sans laughs, ignoring the cold look of intrigue on his creator’s skull._

He also painfully remembers the last time he ever called his brother by his nickname.

 

_“heh… heh…” Sans struggled to lift his red-encased hand, the blue-souled bird monster hanging perilously high off the ground. “no one makes fun of pap and gets away with it.” He was glad the skeleton monster in question wasn’t here to see this. Sans was always so careful to try and keep his brother out of the dark parts that made up their pitiful existence under the mountain._

_“SANS!” Suddenly caught off guard, the shorter skeleton turned to see his brother racing towards him, a long slender bone in one of his hands. He looked murderous, and Sans dropped the kid to the ground. When Papyrus reached Sans, the shorter skeleton had to look up to his quickly growing brother, trying not to sweat under such a menacing glare. This was different than usual – pap was usually such a quiet, but bright and happy kid. Never angry._

_“yeah, pap?”_

_The younger brother glared at him for a few more moments before he summoned a wall of bones that turned the bird monster kid to dust. Sans watched, horrified, as Papyrus turned away._

_“Don’t ever call me that again.”_

His thoughts _ring_ with the memory of when his creator died.

 

_“ **Finally**!”_

_Sans was reaching, but his creator didn’t even care to try. Only looked at him, mouth shaped in a silent scream._

_“gaster!”_

When he first fell in love with anyone, let alone a human, a long, long time ago.

 

_“I promise, Sans.” They murmured, face pressed into the faux fur of his hood, their smile tiny compared to Sans’ joyous one._

_“for as long as i’m here, i won’t let it happen,” He argued, half-heartedly. It was a familiar conversation; one they’d had multiple times. Sans always won._

_“Don’t you ever want to see the stars?” They breathed, sitting up from the damp floor of the cavernous room, the skeleton monster’s eye-lights staying on the sparkling rocks above them. Far off, they could hear the rushing water of Waterfall._

_“of course,” Sans replied, glancing at them coyly from the corner of his eyes._

_“Then what’s the issue?”_

_He squeezed their hand, pulling them down on top of him._

_“i want you there too.”_

When they died. The first reset.

 

_Sans held them fast, tightly to his body as their brilliant soul floated from their chest. Their eyes were lifeless, and Sans’ sockets were dark as he watched a large fur covered paw collect the soul. Asgore didn’t spare Sans a glance, lifting his head and turning to the barrier._

_There was a large shatter as light flooded all his senses, and before he knew it, he was on his bed, waking up._

_“SANS! GET YOUR LAZY ASS OUT OF BED!”_

 

Sans thought of y/n sitting before him in this bloody shed, hollow eyes trained on the fluttering soul in his hands.

Both paths, and they could be his. But down only one of them would y/n go willingly.

Should he be selfish?

Or should he dare to hope?

 

 

 

 

For once in a long time, Sans gives in.

Sans gives in, and is _selfish._

He took this sickly orange soul, and with a flare of red, _greedy_ magic, _consumes it._

 

 

 

For a few, single moments, Sans knows _everything._

But…

 

 

 

_…it refused._


	13. Quiver

Just as quickly as it happens, it un-happens.

Sans is exactly where he was before, in the same positon, the soul still in his hands. He’s breathing a little heavy, but that’s a given. Only now, there’s a few things different. The soul that _had_ been a slimy, quivering, brown color is now a shimmering honey gold, pulsating and filling the damp shed with great swathes of light. It’s a little cracked from so much pressure, and even though it’s filled with LOVE it’s still somehow beautiful.

“Sans?”

The skeleton’s eye-lights snap up, catching y/n’s now huddled form. While Sans is still hunched on his knees as if nothing has happened, they’re huddled and pressed back into the furthest wall away from him. There was actual _fear_ in his human’s eyes, the spooked orbs scanning over his form in careful consideration.

Sans knows why they’re afraid. They must’ve seen him try to absorb the soul – the skeleton monster had blacked out during the process. There was no telling what he did – _could have done_ to y/n.

He bows his head, looking away in what he _knows_ is guilt.

“Are you… are you okay?”

_what?_

_are they really – they’re worried about **me**? the fuck?_

“what is _wrong_ with you?” Sans snaps, a flaming red iris joining the mirage of colors shading the room. “are you really asking _me_ if _i’m_ okay _?_ ” He throws his head back and laughs, ignoring them as their hurt, worried look turns into hard resolve. His hands tighten on the soul unconsciously, the cracks spreading. “kid, you sure are fucked up, y’know that? you fit in so _well_ down here, _freak._ ”

“Don’t you _ever_ talk to me like that!” y/n snaps, baring their teeth in anger. They look like they could kill – only their soul is a dark storm of anxiety, fear and - _compassion_. “I _will not_ be treated like I am just some _human_ , not by you! And what _the fuck_ did you just _do?_ ”

Sans ignores his ramping regret and guilt, turning to something familiar – anger, hatred, and apathy. He smiles crookedly and laughs, pretending their sadness and frustration doesn’t weigh even heavier on his soul then it does theirs. “kid, you’ve got no right to even be _alive_ right now, y’know that?”

Sans stands, ignoring the way his skull pounds from magic overuse.

y/n stays with their back to the wall, sitting down.

Sans wants to _break_ y/n. He was _so tired_ of this charade. He wants to see how far the compassion and kindness went until it ran dry and all that was left was the same emotions he felt on a day-to-day basis. He was just so _mad._

Yet, he felt so _guilty_ and _sad,_ and a big part of this stems from the fact he’s tired and frustrated. All he ever wanted was to protect the people the loves, and he’s tired of everything being ripped from him time and time again. Only now when he has the chance to do so before him, he does something _so stupid._ He tried to take _the seventh fucking soul!_

And he _failed_.

“i can’t do anything right.” Sans says so softly he’s not sure y/n hears him. There’s a few moments of tense silence as Sans stares at the soul in his hands.

_pretty fukin’ interesting, dick. how the hell did you pull all this off?_

“If you’re sorry, make it up to me.”

“how?” It’s out of his mouth faster than he can process it, and his gaze focuses on y/n’s soul. It’s softer looking now, but still shining as resiliently as before. His own soul is diminished in the face of these two human ones, his magic instinctively screaming at him to crush the two threats in the room.

y/n just smiles sadly, eyes flickering over to Dick’s – _Richard’s_ – body.

 

 

 

 

Eventually, Sans hands over the last soul to y/n.

His human watches in relative silence as Sans uses his magic to lift up snow until he reaches the surprisingly soft dirt of Snowdin’s forest. The grave he digs out is at least five feet deep, but once Richard is placed inside and the dirt and snow is reapplied to cover it all up, it looks like nothing ever happened. Sans stands closer to the grave than y/n, his back tingling with the way they’re staring at him.

He turns to them, his soul tensing with the soft, sad smile on their face.  “did he say anything to you before he died?”

“He wanted for us to go home.”

They’re lying, and Sans knows this. 

He doesn’t ask again.

 

 

 

 

“What is this place, anyways?” y/n asks, surprised by the sudden shift of weather now that they’ve entered the damp caverns of Waterfall - even though they’ve been here before. Sans watches in amusement as they look around the colorful walls with wide, bright eyes, their soul still comparatively the best thing here.

In Sans’ opinion, at least.

“waterfall, remember?” They pause, nodding before they spot a familiar wooden structure. Sans smiles and chuckles when they run up to his sentry station, their form bending over the counter to look underneath.

He’s not that surprised when they come back up with a bottle of half-eaten mustard, but he is silently thankful when they hand it over to him.

“Is that…? That’s an Echo Flower!”

They bound towards the tall flower, smiling happily and soul abuzz as they lean in with their ear pressed to the aquamarine petals. From where Sans is standing, he can hear it too, due to his hollow bones.

_“…I hear there’s a human in Snowdin…”_

The hushed voice sounds familiar, and Sans can’t help but tense. y/n only continues to surprises him by standing up and smiling, turning their face so they can whisper into the flower.

 _“They’re going to break the barrier!”_ soon echoes in Sans’ bones.

y/n starts to walk away, leading the way with a golden soul cupped in their hands.

He follows.

 

 

 

 

When they come across the glyphs of The Underground’s history, y/n takes their time reading each one, fingers trailing over the carved runes.

“I’m sorry.”

“’s not your fault, doll.”

“You _hate_ us.” They sound so _small,_ as they come up and wrap their arms around him. He’s a little surprised, and after a few moments of shock, he gently places his arms around them. There’s a few tranquil moments with their face pressed into Sans’ coat, their breathing syncing. The only sounds are of rushing water and a rasping wind that carries the whispers of Echo Flowers.

“ _i_ don’t.”

He doesn’t hate y/n _-_ he doesn’t even hate humans.

He hates _humanity._


	14. Stolen

Thankfully, they don’t run into Undyne. She must be with Papyrus or Alphys. Or something. Who knows?

Sans doesn’t, and he doesn’t care either.

They do, however, run into _a shit ton_ of monsters. It seems like every inhabitant of Waterfall is snaking out of the abyss to try and steal the dazzling soul in y/n’s hands. Sans wants to dust each and every single one of them when he sees them, knowing exactly what they’re thinking.

They’re thinking, _two souls for me!_

y/n is quick to stop him and hand him the soul as they encounter monster after monster, somehow convincing each to go on their way.

It makes his metaphorical blood boil as he watches in mild confusion, once again pulled under a spell by the sheer brilliance of their soul. They’re compassion is blinding, their smiles big and ACTing always a gesture of extending friendship.

Sans’ usual rage at their audacity is quickly becoming overtaken by curiosity and the straining of his soul. 

This human, _his y/n,_ has so much _love._

 

 

 

 

When y/n disappears, Sans is terrified.

y/n had been bouncing up ahead, having handed off the soul into Sans’ ribcage for safe keeping, the skeleton monster following at a leisurely pace. He’s still not quite sure _why_ he’s doing this, having been convinced to take them and the seventh soul to the capital, but he supposes it’s only fair he does this for y/n. He’s got a lot to make up for, and he only hopes he can earn their forgiveness along the way.

And, he wants them both to be there when they shatter the barrier.

Far ahead (but still in sight) y/n had rounded a corner, but when Sans turns the same way y/n is gone.

He spends hours looking, tearing and flickering through the void and waterfall, but he can’t feel their soul _anywhere._

It’s almost like… _they don’t exist._

Eventually, down a nondescript hall, he finds a grey door.

He can feel something like slick black tar seeping from the door, trying to grasp at his soul. The magic is familiar but it’s also _not._ Sans knows this is where y/n is. He can feel their soul through the door, but Sans is afraid of what he might find. 

He puts his back to the far wall and waits.

 

 

 

 

“Sans?”

Someone is shaking him, a small hand pawing gently at his shoulder.

The skeleton monster opens his eyes slowly, having fallen asleep to the lulling sound of water and hushed voices. Slowly he comes to, eye-lights settling on y/n as his memory returns. As soon as he realizes what’s going on, he grabs his human and pulls them close and into his lap, their entire body wrapped in the embrace.

“don’t _ever_ do that again.” His bones are rattling.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to _rattle your bones._ ” y/n just laughs, but they know.

They know that sans is holding back tears, his chuckling hiding his choked sobs. They pull their head away and lean up, sliding their lips against his teeth in a strange mockery of a kiss. Sans stills, and even though it’s not the first time they’ve ever kissed, it certainly _feels_ like it. His bones are on _fire._

“don’t leave me.” He feels so weak, _needing_ someone like this. A _human_ , no less. He can’t help but feel angry and frustrated and _tired,_ his grip tightening on their body.

“I won’t.” They press back into him, resting their head on his chest where he’s certain y/n can feel the hum of his magic and the stolen soul in his ribcage. “Never.”

They sleep there, huddled against the wall before the grey door, tendrils of black magic protecting them.

 

 

 

 

Once they’re on the move again, Sans leads.

y/n asks to hold the soul again and he complies, under the compromise he takes care of any monsters they come across. It’s a deal, as long as he doesn’t hurt them, to which he agrees begrudgingly.

Throughout the entire time through the caverns of waterfall, Sans is struck time and time again by y/n’s kindness.

They put an umbrella over Asriel’s memorial, the soft ringing of a music box following their quick departure.

Every Echo Flower they pass y/n listens too, as if each one is telling a deep and tragic secret that deserves to be heard.

When they come across the view of New Home they stop, sitting on the wet stone to look at the view. Sans joins them, but his eyes aren’t on the view.

They don’t let him deal with the monsters. y/n still faces each one with one soul in their chest and another in their hands, sending each one away.

Eventually they come across to the jagged cliff of rocks that mark the entrance to Hotland, a hot wall of air greeting them as they trek onward. It’s not too soon until Sans has a sudden thought, and stops the two of them.

“hold onto me.” He watches, as they do so. “tightly, and don’t let go. i don’t want to lose you.”

He pushes them though the void in mere moments, landing them inside a hotel room at the MTT resort.

 

 

 

 

“What’s this place?” y/n asks, after they’re done retching. Thankfully, they haven’t eaten anything all day so nothing comes up. Sans had watched in mild disgust, feeling a little sorry.

“a hotel room at the mtt resort.” He explains, sitting down on the edge of a very plush bed. “it’s supposed to be a room for the head of the royal guard, but pap’s in the capital so i think he won’t mind.”

“Oh yeah?” They ask, smiling in what he hopes is a promise of what’s to come. They walk over to him, standing before him and reaching forward, almost boldly. He doesn’t know what to do – everything is suddenly happening so fucking fast, they’re leaning against him, one hand on his chest. Sans’ bones are flushing, the rattling of his spine and ribs filling the air as he blushes heavily. y/n leans forward, eyes dark –

And laughs, leaving him.

**_fuck you!_ **

“Finally. I’m going to take a hot shower.” They pause at the door to the bathroom, smiling slyly at Sans’ panting flushed form. “They have hot water, right Sans?”

_motherfukin cocktease acting all innocent. i should –_

“uh… yeah.” He clears his throat, turning away so he doesn’t have to look at them anymore.

“Thanks!”


	15. Junction

Fuck this human.

Seriously.

How long does it take for a human to use the damn shower? y/n’s been in there for _at least_ an hour, and Sans is pretty sure they're actually taking a bath and doing… something. He’s not quite sure what, but there's going to be hell to pay if they don't come out soon. He's tired of fucking waiting.

But…

Is this really the right time for this?

(it’s pretty fuking obvious that’s what’s… expected to happen. Right?)

He wants y/n _so badly,_ but he doesn't _deserve_ them. He knows this now. There's even a foreign soul in his ribcage that proves it. Maybe he should just pretend to sleep so then they'll actually go to sleep once they realize he's out. Then he could go waste a few hours looking around until y/n wakes up.

This doesn't have to happen. He's not sure he _wants_ it to happen.

_fuck that noise._

He really wants this, and he's sure y/n wants it too.

Sans is scared… scared of… well…

_rejection, not deserving this, regretting it, y/n dying, being dusted, losing everything, not seeing the stars…_

He’s just scared.

Sans lies down, back to the bathroom door, and closes his eye sockets.

 

 

 

 

“...kinda stupid, y’know that?”

Someone's talking to him, a gentle touch running across his skull.

“I mean, you really just… I want you to be happy, damn it. I want all of you to see the sun, moon, and stars. You guys… you make _me_ want to see the sun again.”

Sans keeps his eyes closed and breathing steady. If he gets up now, he knows y/n will stop. This is the first time he's hearing this: the first time they've ever actually _opened up_ to him. Then again, he hadn't done much to deserve their trust. He’s not sure he deserves this sudden surge in belief they have in him.

He doesn’t deserve _them._

“I can't believe I survived that fall, y’know? I closed my eyes, thought I was dead, and then it was like... a giant soft cloud cushioned my body, gently wading me down to the ground. As if I was sinking into mud, right into a bed of literal _flowers_.

“And then that flower prick was there, telling me _everything,_ about resets and souls and how tired he is - hell. I didn't believe him, about _anything._ I was so confused – I was pretty sure I was dead. Maybe I am. The flower – flowey – was so _tired._ Tired of being trapped in some kind of hell, and kept telling me I didn't matter, that I was dead anyways, and that he might as well leave me.

y/n laughs ruefully, sounding bitter. It’s not a tone Sans likes in their voice.

“So the bastard did!”

y/n stops for a few moments, running her hands in soothing motions along his skull. Sans enjoys the sensation immensely, but he's more focused on this story.

“I lived with Toriel for a while… she was kind, if a little broken. I knew she would be happier on the surface, surrounded by monsters and people that could love her. She could foster kids or something, I don't know. She'd be happier. I wanted to free her, so I snuck away.”

Sans knows what’s coming next. He remembers it clearly.

 

_“human.” Sans was grinning out of pure habit, boredom and malice laced in his magic. This was routine, to stop and greet the human each reset, to either kill them or let them go._

_Only for them to be slaughtered afterwards._

_Sans doesn't have to say much more before this human turns on their own, smiling meekly with their arms wrapped around their middle. They weren't wearing much considering the cold weather._

_Huh. Maybe they'll freeze._

_“Hi.” They stick their hand out, but Sans only watches in lazy curiosity. Strange human this time ‘round. Doesn't matter._

_Might as well kill them himself._

_“say, wanna have a **good time**?”_

_He grins when they pause and frown, and he leans over them, enjoying the fear that pulses from their soul._

_“I don't want to hurt you. Please.”_

_“what?”_

_He's… they're begging Sans to not force them into hurting him?_

_“kid, I think you've got the wrong idea here.”_

_“Whatever you say, skeleton.”_

_“sans.” He corrects absentmindedly. Wait - why is he introducing himself to this fuck?_

_They wink, and before Sans knows it, pulls something out of their pocket, shoving it into his face._

_He yells, backing away, suddenly afraid they might hit him. He can't dodge what he can't see, after all. Besides, the snow now shoved into his sockets is as cold as fucking hell frozen over twice, the skeleton monster leaning over to try and get it out._

_“fuck… fuck! God dammit!"_  

_When he looks up again, he realizes they're gone, fresh snow covering their tracks._

 

“you shoved snow in my face.” Sans recalls, showing them he's awake. y/n laughs, smiling down at him. They don’t look all too surprised, lying with their back to the wooden headboard, his head lying in their lap. How they maneuvered this without waking him is beyond Sans. Doesn't matter anyways, not when Sans notices they're wearing his jacket.

How the hell had they gotten _that_ off of him?

Then again, not important.

Sans grins mischievously, shifting the weight of his skull, watching as they tense for a few moments.

Oh yeah. _Definitely_ naked under the jacket.

“You deserved it.” They counterpoint, reminding Sans they're having a conversation right now. Apart from the obvious eye fucking he's trying to do.

He shifts again, with a knowing smile.

“Stop that.” y/n chides, but they sound in no way sincere, especially with the sly smile they’re wearing. Sans takes this time to sit up, crawling to sit beside them against the headboard. He misses the soothing scrape of their fingers along his bones, but hopefully he'll feel it again – soon.

Without further ado, Sans reaches over and pulls them into his lap before they can do anything.

“Really?” They sound more mirthful than annoyed, and Sans responds by pressing his face into their neck. Their back is to his front, but it's not much of a deterrent. They smell so _fucking good_ he can't help but -

“ _Ah!_ ”

As an apology Sans runs his gel like tongue along the quickly forming marks, his teeth having punctured the junction of where their shoulder meets neck. He is in no way sincere, however.

“you smell good, ‘s all.” He breathes them in, running his tongue higher until it curls around the shell of their ear. They're squirming, or trying not to, their soul aflame. “taste good too. somethin’ wrong sweetheart?”

“N-no.”

“don't lie to me.” He murmurs, previously idle hands starting to roam curiously. Thank goodness he's done this with a human before. Sans is _no way_ a virgin. “liars don't get _rewarded_.”

“Don't be such a dick, Sans.”

He stops.

Normally this would incur some kind of flirty, witty pun about how he's only a dick for them, but it spurs a different kind of emotion in him.

Regret.

“no.” He pushes them away gently, and while they struggle with confused frustration, he's strong enough to pull away.

He stands, his back to the bed and his human. No, not his human. _The_ human.

He can't be selfish again. He can't let himself hurt them. _No._

“Sans? What's wrong?”

He wants to scream and yell and tell them _exactly_ what's wrong. He wants them to feel every crack of his soul, every fault and flaw of his existence. How it's _they're fault_ this is happening to him, that he can barely even control himself anymore.

There's only one statement that comes to mind.

“i don’t… I can’t -”

“Don't you dare.” y/n stops him, and he can hear the bed shift as they stand and turn him around with a surprising amount of force. They're glaring at him, their intense soul making his own shiver. “Don't you go and do something stupid. Tell me what's wrong - but don't… don't act like you regret something you obviously don't. Not when you're acting like this, like you've hurt me and haven't done anything but been some evil marshmallow. You're better than that, Sans.”

They smile softly now, having to look up at him and stand on the tip of their toes to place a kiss on his teeth.

“You’ve been trying and that's enough - let it be enough to just _try_ and let yourself be happy. You don't need to earn the right to be happy. You're born with that right, Sans. Stop making it so hard on yourself.” They frown at him, as if he’s being awfully stupid for not realizing this sooner. It makes him a feel a little redundant, when he thinks about what they’re saying.

“so i should just… what? be fukin’ sunshine and rainbows all day, everyday? all the fukin’ time?” He sneers, turning to what he knows best – anger. He’s going to lash out, and he can see it play out in his mind’s eye.

He’s going to attack them – he’s going to break them down, or try to, and he won’t be able to stop himself.

But…

His soul’s not in it. Not anymore. No – it never was.

“Stop it, Sans.” y/n is glaring at him, arms crossed over their chest.

Shit.

But he can feel their soul stutter, and he knows this is his chance –

“i’m sorry.”


	16. *F Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has smut starting at the *  
> The smut also ends at the *  
> This is written for readers with _**female**_ genitalia, but is still written with gender neutral pronouns.

*

 

“should let you wear this more often, huh?”

Their hands are laying idly by their sides, Sans having lifted them over to the bed and flat on their back. He’s straddling them, smiling at the endearing way his jacket is _just_ big enough to go down to y/n’s mid-thigh. He tugs at the fabric, one hand on the bed besides them to keep himself propped up, the other going to the zipper.

“it’s only _fitting_ that i do this…” Sans slowly pulls down the zipper, the rasp of metal teeth coming undone filling the air. y/n is watching his hands with a patient smile, every so often looking up at his eye-sockets. Sans is completely focused on what’s being revealed to him, entranced on each inch of precious skin being opened up to him.

“That was bad, even for you.” y/n laughs at his pun, blushing and squirming a little under such devoted attention. The skeleton monster smiles devilishly, leaning down and pressing a hard boney kiss upon their lips. He gets a little lost between the soft feel of their skin, his arms caging them in while they bring one of their own to cup his skull. It’s incredibly dominating on Sans’ side of the deal, and soon they pull away to gasp for air.

Sans may not need to breathe, but he’s finding it hard to do it anyways.

Then, the kiss turns tender as Sans decides to roam, the boney fingers of his left hand ghosting up their curvy side and soft skin, running over the smooth expanse of their belly. They shudder, eyes fluttering closed as they whimper beneath him. Sans can’t help but lose himself in the look in their eyes, lust and adoration at war.

“ _fuck…_ ” Sans lets his hand trail higher, dragging his fingers over their ribs, then tracing the underside curve of their breast. He watches, intently, as they try not to squirm. It’s a little cute, and Sans decides maybe he should go a little easy on them.

Eh, fuck it.

Without warning he tugs gently at the hard peaks of their breast, enjoying the way they shape their mouth in a silent cry. It’s even better when he sits up fully and does it with both hands on each mound of supple flesh, teasing and toying with them. It’s then, when they start to whine and their soul is shuddering with their need, that he leans back down, conjuring his ghost-like tongue.

He trails teeth and tongue over the skin of their neck, pausing every so often to bite or suck – usually following with a completely insincere kiss as an apology. It’s then that when he takes some extra time specifically reinforcing the bite he made earlier when they arch against him, glaring daggers.

“ _Sans._ ” They urge, and he laughs breathily against them, knowing they’re shuddering from the barely-there feel of his grin against supple skin.

“yes?” He can’t help but tease them, stopping all his attention and staring mirthfully in their eyes. “somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?”

“ _Sans!_ ”

Hot damn.

y/n was arching into him, panting and whining as they reached up and clutched his lowest ribs to try and pull him closer. Sans stayed firm in where he was sitting on top of them, enjoying this immensely. They looked so fucking _beautiful…_

“alright, alright.” He smiles softly, kissing them once more to try and distract them. Discretely he brings his left hand down – down until he’s at the wet folds of their sex and tracing the slit. Immediately y/n breaks away from the kiss, stiffening as he focuses on their neck once more, trying to keep them distracted.

“San – _oh god._ ” For a few moments, Sans wonders if they’re a virgin, or if they’re just sensitive. Doesn’t matter.

They’re tight, hot, _wet,_ around his digit, as he slowly sinks his bony finger in and trying his best to cushion the intruding appendage with a thin veil of magic. He’s really fucking glad he’s done this before with a human. Or else… well, let’s just say he’d be at a bit of a loss.

Eventually he gets a finger inside, going to try and put another in.

“ _fuck._ ” He groans, his bones rattling at the thought of how great this is.

He’s with y/n.

His human.

All his.

“you’re mine, y’know that?” He looks into their eyes when he starts to pump into them with his fingers, the thumb of the very same hand pressing teasingly against their clit. 

“And you’re mine.”

It surprises him, but it couldn’t be more true.

 

 

 

 

When he’s finally inside them – _oh fucking god –_ he can’t do much more but give them what they’re begging for. He drags his length against the tight walls of their sex over and over and _over_ again, his bones rattling as he pants and growls, left eye aflame with angry red magic.

y/n is saying his name – even less composed then he is. It’s beautiful – magical – and Sans can’t help but know that this is something he’ll never forget. Never _ever_ regret.

It’s not long until y/n comes, soon coaxing Sans as his thrusts become sloppy and rough, and he’s so _fucking close –_

He growls their name as he comes undone, magic swelling and bursting, a firestorm in his soul and fireworks behind his closed eye-sockets.

 

 

*

 

 

“What’re you so scared of, Sans?”

They’re lying together, curled up after a nap and refreshing shower. They’re wearing one of his shirts that he’d had to teleport home to grab, a clean outfit also around somewhere for later use. The skeleton is trying to profusely ignore the glowing golden soul in his ribcage and the lights that dance from it and onto the walls.

He’s been trailing patterns onto their skin for the past half hour, the two of them lying in the dark silence before y/n speaks.

“what’d’you mean, babe?” He lifts his head up slightly, already propped up on the numerous pillows on the bed. He’s a little terrified of this new intimacy – it feels too foreign, but also, all too real.

“At first you didn’t want this. Why?” They glance up at him with round, curious eyes, and he knows they only ask for his wellbeing. He _knows_ this. But he can’t help but want to dodge the question. It’s in his nature, after all.

He swallows his doubts away, and decides it’s only fair if he gives in.

“how ‘bout this. i’ll answer your questions, if you answer mine.”

y/n looks a little apprehensive, but just like him, they swallow away their doubts and nod.

“Okay.”

“i didn’t think i deserved this – you.” He starts, closing his eye-sockets. He doesn’t want to see them when he explains this. “i was selfish once and tried to take the soul. and i couldn’t even do that right.”

“It’s okay to be selfish sometimes, Sans.” y/n butts in, catching him off guard. They’re running their fingers up and down his ribcage, eyes on the golden soul. Their expression is soft, unguarded, and it warms Sans’ soul. “You did something you regret. So? Don’t regret it anymore, just forgive yourself. You wouldn’t do it again, would you?”

They look at him now, bright and expectant.

“’m not so sure I wouldn’t.”

“Sans,” they reach up, pressing a tender thumb against his cheek and underneath his eye-socket. “it’s okay. I don’t blame you. You can’t hold this against yourself – I can’t say it wasn’t your fault because that would be lying. I can’t say it’s something you can just get over and be done with. We’ve all got regrets like that – stupid things we do, but luckily didn’t work.”

They pause, and look away. They’re _ashamed._

“I didn’t fall down here. I jumped. And I’m glad for every second that I’m still alive.” They lay their head against his sternum, his bones thrumming against y/n’s touch. “We’re not all perfect, Sans. We make mistakes. But that doesn’t mean we can’t still be happy.”

Sans doesn’t know what to say to that.

So he doesn’t say anything.

 

 

 

 

“Can I see your soul?"

It’s a few minutes later, while Sans lays in pensive silence, that y/n speaks again.

“sorry?” He’s not quite sure he heard right – no, he just _hopes_ he didn’t hear that.

“Uh…” They pause, noticing he’s uncomfortable. “I asked about your soul. Could I… see it?”

_well. uh, fuck._

He shifts, a little nervous. What would they think of it when they saw it? Sans was afraid to admit it, but he was a little scared of how they might judge his soul – what if they didn’t see it as he saw theirs? But, then again, he couldn’t hide it from them forever.

“okay.” He sits up, pulling y/n up with him. They turn to face him, and he skips his eyes over their own, looking down at his sternum. “uh…”

_well, here goes nothing._

Pulling his hand away from his chest with a fluid motion he draws out a thin haze of red smoke, the wispy tendrils of magic slowly condensing as they appear from his bones. Slowly but surely, a white upside-down heart materializes before his chest, a right-side up red heart in its middle. It was a small, thrumming soul, cracks and splinters running through its surface and core.

The room was bathed in gold and red, the two exposed souls lighting the space gloriously.

“Oh, Sans…”

Out of everything, he’s not expecting them to _touch it._

Kindness, warmth, happiness, joy, passion, _love –_

There’s too much, his body arching in shock, as he’s completely overwhelmed by them – this _human – his human._

“y/n – please -” They back off just as quickly as they brushed against its surface, jolting away as if burned. Through Sans’ lidded sockets, he notices they look worried, if a little burdened. “sorry – i just – it was _too_ _much._ ”

“I’m sorry, Sans.” They watch with remorse as his soul dissipates and slides back into his chest, before they smile up at him. Sans is struggling to adjust, mind and magic ablaze with a flurry of confusing emotions that aren’t his. “I forgot how it felt when you touched mine – I didn’t know…”

“it’s fine.” He reassures, scrabbling for his composure. “it’s fine.”

“I’m sorry."

 

 

 

 

Later, when y/n’s asleep, he recognizes exactly what’s happening.

He’s falling in love.

And he _hates_ it.


	17. *M Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has smut starting at the *  
> The smut also ends at the *  
> This is written for readers with _**male**_ genitalia, but is still written with gender neutral pronouns.

“should let you wear this more often, huh?”

Their hands are laying idly by their sides, Sans having lifted them over to the bed and flat on their back. He’s straddling them, smiling at the endearing way his jacket is _just_ big enough to go down to y/n’s mid-thigh. He tugs at the fabric, one hand on the bed besides them to keep himself propped up, the other going to the zipper.

“it’s only _fitting_ that i do this…” Sans slowly pulls down the zipper, the rasp of metal teeth coming undone filling the air. y/n is watching his hands with a patient smile, every so often looking up at his eye-sockets. Sans is completely focused on what’s being revealed to him, entranced on each inch of precious skin being opened up to him.

“That was bad, even for you.” y/n laughs at his pun, blushing and squirming a little under such devoted attention. The skeleton monster smiles devilishly, leaning down and pressing a hard boney kiss into their lips. He gets a little lost between the soft feel of their skin, his arms caging them in while they bring one of their own to cup his skull. It’s incredibly dominating on Sans’ side of the deal, but soon they pull away to gasp for air.

Sans may not need to breathe, but he’s finding it hard to do it anyways.

Then, the kiss turns tender as Sans decides to roam, the boney fingers of his left hand ghosting up their side and soft skin, running over the smooth expanse of their belly. They shudder, eyes fluttering closed as they whimper beneath him. Sans can’t help but lose himself in the look in their eyes, lust and adoration at war.

“ _fuck…_ ” Sans lets his hand trail higher, dragging his fingers over their ribs, then tracing above their nipple. He watches, intently, as they try not to squirm. It’s a little cute, and Sans decides maybe he should go a little easy on them.

Eh, fuck it.

Without warning he tugs gently at the hard buds of their nipples, enjoying the way they shape their mouth in a silent cry. It’s even better when he sits up fully and does it with both hands trailing over their chest in ghostly touches, teasing and toying with them. It’s then, when they start to whine and their soul is shuddering with their need, that he leans back down, conjuring his ghost-like tongue.

He trails teeth and tongue over the skin of their neck, pausing every so often to bite or suck – usually following with a completely insincere kiss as an apology. It’s then that when he takes some extra time specifically reinforcing the bite he made earlier when they arch against him, glaring daggers.

“ _Sans._ ” They urge, and he laughs breathily against them, knowing they’re shuddering from the barely-there feel of his grin against supple skin.

“yes?” He can’t help but tease them, stopping all his attention and staring mirthfully in their eyes. “somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?”

“ _Sans!_ ”

Hot damn.

y/n was arching into him, panting and whining as they reached up and clutched his lowest ribs to try and pull him closer. Sans stayed firm in where he was sitting on top of them, enjoying this immensely. They looked so fucking _beautiful…_

“alright, alright.” He smiles softly, kissing them once more to try and distract them. Discretely he brings his left hand down – down until he’s palming their erection in his hand. Immediately y/n breaks away from the kiss, stiffening as he focuses on their neck once more, trying to keep them distracted.

“San – _oh god._ ” For a few moments, Sans wonders if they’re a virgin, or if they’re just sensitive. Doesn’t matter.

They’re hard in the palm of his hand, cock thick and heavy with its weight. Slowly Sans begins to run his fingers along its length, trying to get a feel for what they like. He’s really fucking glad he’s done this before with a human. Or else… well, let’s just say he’d be at a bit of a loss.

Eventually squeezes around the base, precum leaking out the tip.

“ _fuck._ ” He groans, his bones rattling at the thought of how great this is.

He’s with y/n.

His human.

All his.

“you’re mine, y’know that?” He looks into their eyes when he starts to stroke them earnestly, enjoying each and every twitch of their cock as they unravel beneath him.

“And you’re mine." 

It surprises him, but it couldn’t be more true.

 

 

 

 

When he’s finally inside them – _oh fucking god –_ he can’t do much more but give them what they’re begging for. He drags his length against their tight walls over and over and _over_ again, his bones rattling as he pants and growls, left eye aflame with angry red magic.

y/n is saying his name – even less composed then he is. It’s beautiful – magical – and Sans can’t help but know that this is something he’ll never forget. Never _ever_ regret.

It’s not long until y/n comes, soon coaxing Sans as his thrusts become sloppy and rough, and he’s so _fucking close –_

He growls their name as he comes undone, magic swelling and bursting, a firestorm in his soul and fireworks behind his closed eye-sockets.

 

 

*

 

 

“What’re you so scared of, Sans?”

They’re lying together, curled up after a nap and refreshing shower. They’re wearing one of his shirts that he’d had to teleport home to grab, a clean outfit also around somewhere for later use. The skeleton is trying to profusely ignore the glowing golden soul in his ribcage and the lights that dance from it and onto the walls.

He’s been trailing patterns onto their skin for the past half hour, the two of them lying in the dark silence before y/n speaks.

“what’d’you mean, babe?” He lifts his head up slightly, already propped up on the numerous pillows on the bed. He’s a little terrified of this new intimacy – it feels too foreign, but also, all too real.

“At first you didn’t want this. Why?” They glance up at him with round, curious eyes, and he knows they only ask for his wellbeing. He _knows_ this. But he can’t help but want to dodge the question. It’s in his nature, after all.

He swallows his doubts away, and decides it’s only fair if he gives in.

“how ‘bout this. i’ll answer your questions, if you answer mine.”

y/n looks a little apprehensive, but just like him, they swallow away their doubts and nod.

“Okay.”

“i didn’t think i deserved this – you.” He starts, closing his eye-sockets. He doesn’t want to see them when he explains this. “i was selfish once and tried to take the soul. and i couldn’t even do that right.”

“It’s okay to be selfish sometimes, Sans.” y/n butts in, catching him off guard. They’re running their fingers up and down his ribcage, eyes on the golden soul. Their expression is soft, unguarded, and it warms Sans’ soul. “You did something you regret. So? Don’t regret it anymore, just forgive yourself. You wouldn’t do it again, would you?”

They look at him now, bright and expectant.

“’m not so sure I wouldn’t.”

“Sans,” they reach up, pressing a tender thumb against his cheek and underneath his eye-socket. “it’s okay. I don’t blame you. You can’t hold this against yourself – I can’t say it wasn’t your fault because that would be lying. I can’t say it’s something you can just get over and be done with. We’ve all got regrets like that – stupid things we do, but luckily didn’t work.”

They pause, and look away. They’re _ashamed._

“I didn’t fall down here. I jumped. And I’m glad for every second that I’m still alive.” They lay their head against his sternum, his bones thrumming against y/n’s touch. “We’re not all perfect, Sans. We make mistakes. But that doesn’t mean we can’t still be happy.”

Sans doesn’t know what to say to that. 

So he doesn’t say anything.

 

 

 

 

“Can I see your soul?”

It’s a few minutes later, while Sans lays in pensive silence, that y/n speaks again.

“sorry?” He’s not quite sure he heard right – no, he just _hopes_ he didn’t hear that.

“Uh…” They pause, noticing he’s uncomfortable. “I asked about your soul. Could I… see it?”

_well. uh, fuck._

He shifts, a little nervous. What would they think of it when they saw it? Sans was afraid to admit it, but he was a little scared of how they might judge his soul – what if they didn’t see it as he saw theirs? But, then again, he couldn’t hide it from them forever.

“okay.” He sits up, pulling y/n up with him. They turn to face him, and he skips his eyes over their own, looking down at his sternum. “uh…”

_well, here goes nothing._

Pulling his hand away from his chest with a fluid motion he draws out a thin haze of red smoke, the wispy tendrils of magic slowly condensing as they appear from his bones. Slowly but surely, a white upside-down heart materializes before his chest, a right-side up red heart in its middle. It was a small, thrumming soul, cracks and splinters running through its surface and core.

The room was bathed in gold and red, the two exposed souls lighting the space gloriously.

“Oh, Sans…”

Out of everything, he’s not expecting them to _touch it._

Kindness, warmth, happiness, joy, passion, _love –_

There’s too much, his body arching in shock, as he’s completely overwhelmed by them – this _human – his human._

“y/n – please -” They back off just as quickly as they brushed against its surface, jolting away as if burned. Through Sans’ lidded sockets, he notices they look worried, if a little burdened. “sorry – i just – it was _too_ _much._ ”

“I’m sorry, Sans.” They watch with remorse as his soul dissipates and slides back into his chest, before they smile up at him. Sans is struggling to adjust, mind and magic ablaze with a flurry of confusing emotions that aren’t his. “I forgot how it felt when you touched mine – I didn’t know…”

“it’s fine.” He reassures, scrabbling for his composure. “it’s fine.”

“I’m sorry.”

 

 

 

 

Later, when y/n’s asleep, he recognizes exactly what’s happening.

He’s falling in love.

And he _hates_ it.


	18. LOVE

Sans leads the way, hand held tightly in y/n’s, the two of them traversing through the core.

The large ominous structure shudders much alike to Sans’ bones, the twisted hallways and metal structures haunting Sans and reminding him of its creator. He doesn’t want to remember that monster – ever. He wants to forget, just like everyone else did.

For now, he focuses on the numerous monsters standing in their way, having heard word from Waterfall that they were arriving. These monsters were very unlike the dwellers of the previously starry cavern. They weren’t monsters drawn curiously from their homes, licking their metaphorical teeth at the vibrancy of a defenseless soul. These monsters were trained assassins and mercenaries, wanting nothing more than the endless power two human souls could offer.

Each time y/n encounters a monster, stepping away from Sans with a brave look on their face, he squeezes their hand and quickly memorizes the feel of their skin against chalky bone. It’s the least he can do, when he’s almost certain each time they encounter a new monster it’s all over. He’s never had much confidence in others – who would, in a world where you only lived for yourself?

He was changing.

“y/n?” They’ve paused, Sans having brought out a few burgers from Grillby’s he’d quickly shortcutted to. They were lying in one of the many passageways of the Core, back against the wall and sitting side by side. Sans wants to scoop them up, and place them in his lap.

He squeezes their hand, and he supposes he could settle with them laying their head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, Sans?”

“did you…” He desperately wants to ask about Waterfall – about the strange grey door and their disappearing act from earlier. Only, as soon as he’s about to ask, there’s a strange foggy static in the air that ripples through his bones, the familiar magic and its memory fleeting from his mind.

Wait.

What?

Sans blinks, turning to look away from his burger to y/n. They’re looking at him expectantly.

“Did I what?” They’re amused, but Sans doesn’t know why, his eyebones knitting together in confusion.

“musta forgot. whatever.” Shrugging, he goes back to eating. 

“Numbskull.”

 

 

 

 

He doesn’t remember what he’s forgetting until it’s too late.

 

 

 

 

It’s all too soon that they leave the core for New Home, the grey brick and stone unappealing to Sans’ eyes. y/n seems to frown when they leave the elevator, disappointed with the capital of the Underground. Part of him feels a little angered it doesn’t meet their oh-so-high standards.

“It’s so… dull.” When they turn a corner, the looming view of the underground city coming to light, they stop. “It’s so crowded, too… I’m sorry.”

Sans watches them, soul fluttering. They squeeze his hand in their own, eyes scanning over the lackluster city of his home. It’s a sickly city, stone buildings reaching throughout the entire cavern, spanning as much space as they can. It’s suffocating to just _look_ at.

If they don’t reach the surface soon, they’re all going to die.

It’s the truth, and Sans knows it. There’s not enough resources as is – too many monsters in the seemingly shrinking cavern, each of them growing more and more hostile by the day. There might even be a civil war at this rate. Not everyone supported the current King, with how poor things were going right now.

But…

Looking at y/n, and feeling the twinge of the unfamiliar golden soul in his chest, Sans is hopeful. He’s even unafraid to call it so: he might see the sunlight and stars in as soon as a few hours. They’re close now, closer than Sans has ever been to escaping this nightmarish hell. For once, he can entertain the idea of a future. With y/n, his human. 

“c’mon.” He tugs then into following, the both of them walking down the stone path that cuts a jagged way to the King’s home. y/n follows, solemn.

 

 

 

 

They don’t waste any time in the King’s home.

y/n looks uneasy as soon as they approach the building that stands sentry, eyes flashing with unbidden thoughts. Sans wants to ask what they’re thinking, and can feel their soul as it shudders and moves on, brightening. He decides it would probably be best to just keep going.

They walk through the house, Sans feeling a little uneasy at the cozy interior of the place. It still looks like the queen was living here – there was rumors the king still kept Toriel’s throne. Sans didn’t believe them. Why should he? The awe inspiring and fearsome Asgore keeping a sentimental hunk of furniture in memory of a wife who left him? Then again, he couldn’t help but think the house looked a little too nice for the merciless king of monsters.

It’s not too long until they’re once again on another jagged path that cuts into the wall of the cavern, leading from the home to the throne room. How Sans even _remembers_ the layout of this place is a mystery – he hasn’t been here since, well… the first reset.

Once again they face the bleak view of the crowded city, only now they trudge on without stopping, both of them a little giddy despite the tense atmosphere.

They’re almost there – _almost._

Sans can almost taste the sunlight – feel the awe inspiring view of the stars against his soul, the brush of fresh air against his bones. He wants to feel the stretching sand between his tarsals, and look out onto the ocean – he wants to see the largest mountain and lowest valley. He wants to see it _all._

y/n smiles brightly at him as they cross a golden archway, and Sans’ bones rattle as they run ahead, laughing.

He can’t do any of it without them, though. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

 

 

 

Sans has never understood this hallway.

It’s beautiful compared to the rest of New Home, filled with golden swathes of light and arches of marble and fine stone. Artificial magic lights and enhances the large space, the human paused a few feet in front of him seeming to radiate in the midst of it all. The three souls in the room hum and resonate, Sans’ bones rattling as y/n shudders.

This is it.

Nothing can stop them now – they both know this.

Sans steps up to y/n, still taller than them, the skeleton enamored by the height difference. He places his bony hands on their waist, the soft flesh palmed by firm bone. They’re both smiling, the skeleton monster lost in y/n’s eyes. He closes his own, presses his forehead to theirs, and holds them close.

“thank you.” Sans murmurs. “thank you.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” y/n laughs against him, their own hands tightening into his jacket. Sans feels safer here than any other place or time in his life. He only wishes this moment could last forever – there’s so much potential and hope in his soul and future that he’s not sure he deserves this.

“I love you.”

What?

Wait.

Uh…?

Did they just…?

Sans tries to breathe, and finds he can’t.

“Sans?”

Ah, shit, he’s tearing up. And sweating. Fuck.

“yeah?” His voice cracks, and he tries to hide away into their hair.

“You okay?” They sound so _concerned._

“yeah…” He finally remembers how to breathe, his bones still rattling with the same intensity as his soul. “i… uh, love you too, sweetheart.”

“Really?” y/n pulls away to look up at him, and they laugh, amused. One of their hands reach up, and they wipe away a translucent red tear. Fuck. Was he crying? No – he was not – no, he _did not cry. Ever._

“yeah. really.”

Really.

He means it.


	19. End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italicized and bolded text is Gaster speaking.
> 
> Italicized text is either word stress or Sans' thoughts.

They’re standing before the barrier.

Six souls, each a different hue or shade of color, stand before them in cylinder containers. Almost as if they’d been expected. The soul in Sans’ ribcage thrums loudly, as if it knows exactly what it’s here to do. He can almost _feel_ it’s anticipation, it’s need to join the other six.

y/n steps forward, letting go of his hand to stare at the barrier. They look awestruck, much like Sans had been the first time he’d seen it. They both don’t speak for a few minutes, the skeleton monster trying to memorize the thrum of the endless silver barrier, and the beacon of gold in his chest.

Sans reaches into his ribs and pulls out the golden soul, both of them watching, enraptured, as it floats to fill a space between the souls. All seven of them are thrumming, violently growing brighter.

“What now?” y/n asks, as they seem to reach equilibrium. “How do we break it?" 

“ **You Don’t.** ”

 

 

 

 

It happens too fast for Sans to realize what’s going on.

Asgore, rumbling and growling like rolling thunder, summoning his magic with a vicious flare.

y/n, impaled on a dark red trident, bleeding out and reaching for him with a scream.

Sans, cradling y/n in his arms, crying, watching with hollow eyes as their soul leaves their body, his hands reaching for it too late.

Asgore’s paw, large and commanding, as he takes and absorbs their soul.

All, encompassing white light.

Sunlight, maybe.

Sans doesn’t know, but he can hear the calls of birds somewhere.

 

 

 

 

He’s crying.

Full on sobbing, angrily screaming into a dark void. He’s not quite sure where he is, but his sockets are shut tightly, head in his hands and on his knees. y/n’s gone, no longer in his arms. He must have dropped their body. Or…

He’s resetting.

Another soul shattering sob wrenches its way out of him, an echo of the terrible agony and pain that torments his soul. y/n is dead. He’s resetting. He’s going to wake up, and no one will remember this. y/n will be gone. Or dead. Who knows how this shit even worked?

Gods – y/n. How – how was he going to keep going, anymore? How?

_you’ve done it before._

_but this is different!_

This was so, so different. Right?

He couldn’t remember it that well, dammit. Must’ve suppressed it or some shit.

“ ** _Sans._** ”

No. No, no, no, no, no, not him. Please. Please not him –

“ ** _Sans. Look at me._** ”

He can’t help it. He does.

The skeleton monster finds himself in a place he knows all too well. The void. Nothing but hungry shadows fill the perpetual darkness, his white chalky bone bright like a beacon against the darkness. Whispers and screams are muffled by static, the empty plane of existence tinged with familiar magic.

Gaster.

A tall, melting figure stands before Sans, all too familiar. His face is bright against everything else, one dropping eye socket accompanying a perfectly round one. Both are lit with bright eye-lights, the sockets each marred with a long crack running either above or below. Where the darkness of his figure began and his skull ended, Sans couldn’t tell. Especially not through the red tears that blurred his vision.

“ ** _There we go, my boy. I am terribly sorry this happened._** ”

“gaster…? but – how?” Sans’ creator had been destroyed, from what he could remember. Maybe it was fitting he was in a state of residual decay, warped by the void.

“ ** _Hush, Sans. I promise things will turn out for the better. Now, tell me, what do you remember?_** ”

Remember? What the fuck was he talking about?

Sans growled, magic flaring against the void, wanting nothing more than to do _something._ He had to do _something._

_y/n was **d e a d.**_

**_“Sans! Please, do relax. I only want to help. Now, what do you remember?”_ **

Against his wishes, Sans’ magic begins to dissipate as his anger leaves him like a candle blown out. He’s tired of fighting it – tired of _trying._ Tired of living, even.

“ ** _What do you remember about the first human?_** ”

Gaster looks sad, pensive, despite the constant melting and reassembling of his form. He signs slowly with his hands, along with the words that seem to resonate deeply in Sans’ bones. The shorter skeleton monster only slumps, his soul dimming to a faint glow akin to an ember.

Sans shrugs.

“ ** _Think back, Sans. Stop being incompetent._** ”

He wants to try and dust Gaster in that moment, but his rage turns into focus as he tries to remember whatever the hell must be so important. Sans just wants this to be over – he just wants to sleep, and never wake up.

Besides, what was so important about that first human – his first love?

“ ** _What was their name?_** ”

Their name?

Sans frowns, confused. Their name? Fuck, he doesn’t even remember what they looked like. Or their soul. Only little snippets of conversation here and there. What _did_ they look like, anyways? How could he forget how their soul felt? Would he forget how y/n’s felt, eventually?

“ ** _Think, Sans._** ”

He bites back a snarl and a comeback.

Why the fuck should he even care about what Gaster said anyways?

It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. The first human doesn’t matter. y/n doesn’t –

Oh.

Suddenly, Sans remembers _everything._

Gaster smiles sadly as recognition, pain, and grief fills Sans’ soul.

“ _why?_ ” Sans screams, choking on sobs. “why would you let me remember?”

“ ** _Because_** ,” Gaster murmurs, as it all begins to fade from Sans. “ ** _they will come back, for a third time. Don’t mess this up again, Sans._** ”

He won’t. Oh god. He won’t forget them again. How could he forget y/n once? He’ll wait – oh god, he’ll wait a thousand resets over again and more until they return.

He’ll wait.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr.](scripttura.tumblr.com)


End file.
